Somewhere along the lines of looking out the window with longing and being so morose from long days that started with loud mornings, I had forgotten how much I had always wanted to sit on the balcony.
I can see the wind rustle the trees, or the trees rustled by the wind more like it, but I cannot feel it.
Ah. There it is.
Somewhere upwind someone is wearing perfume that smells like candy, and to my right an elderly man is showing presumably his family's home videos with his granddaughter. She looks about 4, while her little sister is flipped against his chest sleeping soundly as he pats her on the back.
Two more adult family members perhaps join.
They speak an East Asian language I cannot identify but they say "happy birthday" in the video in English.
The little girl bounces and giggles with delight and her grandfather smiles and speaks warmly to her with his strong voice.
This is what people mean when they say children give you meaning.
They just left, but before leading with the two younger adults the girl turns to the old man and says, "Are you coming?"
He says yes and she jumps with joy again.
A male sparrow lands on the glass beside me. Cute.
He poops. Maybe he is rebellious. He is also bringing out the droppings left by his comrades (like a gang symbol).
The air feels the same temperature as my skin As if it is nothing. Without the wind the cold or the heat it is, as if there is no air.
The wind visits the peaceful balcony.
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