If I caught you peaking through the window of my life you'd see a house in need of a good vacuuming scattered with toddler toys and books. The little boy is sitting in his blue car making the noises just right, his "voom vooms" and "bop bops" are timed perfectly with his imaginary road to somewhere.
His mother is sitting with her kindle open and in between chapters runs a load of dishes and wipes down the table trying to keep up with a house she feels she has lost control of. She always finds time, though, to sit with the little boy in the blue car and read him a story or give him knucks or tickle him until he's as blue as the car with laughter.
When the roll of the wheels outside ring out the tabby cat wraps around the house. From window to window, he watches the man in his tan slacks and blue button down until he greets him at the door with a meow. The man offers kisses, like tiny jewels, to the tired woman and boy. One accepts, the other runs away giggling. His feet move so fast he almost flies.
If you were watching, you'd perhaps be caught up in the imperfection or the circles beneath her eyes or the cracker crumbs in the carpet. The little window view of our life is colored with dust of yesterdays and green apple slices clutched in meaty fists. If you were watching, you'd see.