In the house on Brendonwood, mine was the only bedroom with a window that faced east. On clear mornings, my pink room would glow with the morning sunrise. One summer I spent a few dollars on a rainbow decal for this window, and after that, each sunrise also arrived with a rainbow reflection on my wall. As the sun rose, so did the rainbow.
What a happy way to wake up on summer mornings. Often, if it was warm enough, I might have the window open with a fresh breeze blowing in and twittering birdsong to further lift my spirit. On weekends, there might also be an enticing, comforting aroma of pancakes rising into bubbly tender rounds on the stove.
The land around our house was a low lying valley, with heavy snows in the winter, abundant rain in spring, regular summer storms and cool and sometimes freezing autumn days. When the yard wasn't covered by snow, the grass was deep, lush and kelly green with soft earth underneath. Walking on it in bare feet was softer than carpet, and intensely aromatic.
Despite being a northern climate, in this area, gardens thrived in summer, and fall harvests were bountiful. On Saturdays, I would look through the rainbow window and see my father working on the weeding or planting a row of corn. I can see his blue jeans and the pocket with a white hankerchief he used to wipe the sweat from his brow.
Sometimes on summer nights, a thunderstorm would roll in. I loved the sound and the energy of it, and would arise with the sound and open the window for a closer experience. Lighting would light up the valley in white, then as it faded to black, I would feel blind for a moment. When it struck again, I'd be delighted by the sight of the wide land, the indigo sky and the dark outline of the trees.
As I travel on the inner journey, consciousness is like the night storm. Sometimes I glimpse the meaning of my life and am thrilled by the beauty of what I've been given. Then, in a flash, in the rush of now, and do, and let's, the darkness settles in and blots out the wow of what I was just experiencing.
During those years at the rainbow window, I struggled with all the normal growing pains of childhood, some that are better left covered under the gravel of forget. Mostly, that northern, rural, idyllic childhood that my parents provided becomes sweeter for me with time.