Some thoughts on windows

The houses on my street were built somewhere in the 1600s with little distance between them. My attic loft looks out across the way to a house now owned by a Danish film maker. Much of the year the house is empty, but as soon as someone comes in I suddenly need to be more modest as I run from shower to closet.

However, there is an advantage. In an era of emails and telephones, much of the conversation to people in the house is window to window not unlike a TV program from years ago where Molly Goldberg and her New York neighbour talked through their tenement windows. Over the years, I have chatted in this way with misc. tenants from the Danish entertainment industry, artists, a French-American child and friends of mine that I have installed in the house because my space is too small to put my guests for a long time.

But at least two weeks a year, the communications become special. There’s a little Danish boy, a special needs child, who spends his holiday in the house and sleeps in the room with the window opposite mine.

Over the years as he visits his development has produced tears of happiness as he exceeds all expectations given his parents when he was born. He has grown into a lovely pre-teen.

We have a routine, established on his original visit, where he says good night to me before the shutters close for the night and good morning as soon as they open.

Although he speaks no English and my Danish is less than minimal, our sign language has gotten more complicated over the years. I do understand when he calls to me, and I never fail to go and wave. And then big smiles don’t need language skills.

A few years ago a French friend climbed out a window because she was bored with using doors. Sometimes windows open to more than the outdoors.