The window makes all the difference in the world. Even when the view is dark and snowy, compared to sitting in an inward cubicle, three sides partitions and one a blank wall, I am opened up. Yesterday, before the view became one of a shaken snow globe for 20 minutes before it settled into simply rain, simply water, a line of geese crossed from right to left, each with markings white and gray as the scene below. A crow skittered in to grip the tiptop of the nearby pine. Today a plane circled in and crossed above, heading for the airstrip beyond the swamp that borders the parking lot out back. Some days I feel the sun over my shoulder, its glow on the wall I face, knowing it's almost time to go home, and I turn to see it coloring its descent behind the swamp.
I've had my ups and downs in the past several months. The initial thrill and anxiety of starting a new job and all going well. The stomach churn as the bottom reveals itself in an unhappy, demanding client, the lifeline of help and lack of remonstrances, yet the pitted fears of incompetence at all that's new and expected. I think No, I can't do this I don't know what I'm doing, and then I do it. Throughout, colleagues are friendly and respectful. Today a happy client calls. Outside the window the sun shines off the melting snow. Then the clouds roll in again.