the view from her mountain window.

she stood gazing through her mountain window, peering out into the moving cars, watching the people entering and leaving through the same door. she stood pondering how quickly life changes. soon those cars would no longer drive up and down that river street, and those same people would never speak those exact words to each other at that exact time. how quickly moments become memories, and love becomes a mystery; how can a heart change so abruptly? it happens over time, and then all at once. she had looked out that window many times before, but never really saw much of anything; just a crowded parking lot, ducks in a pond, and of course people. but there was something different about this time, all of said things were present, and yet something else.  a picture is worth a thousand words, and it was true for her. the photograph didn't lie, it revealed all of the things she saw and that which she didn't. the one very thing that captured the present, the one thing that was experiencing the very moment being observed. her. as she gazed out her mountain window, the photograph revealed her own reflection through the glass. she had looked so many times before, but never saw. she was there all along. waiting to be exposed. waiting to be known. she had looked at the world, contemplating it from a distance, never paying much attention to herself. she was always the narrator, always the collector of words in order to make sense of the chaos- she wanted to make memories eternal.

but through all of this observing she had forgotten, she too is eternal.