Blue Satin Curtains

The simple pleasure, of having the windows open.

Have you ever noticed the smell? It makes absolutely no sense, but it always smells the same, open windows.

One of those indescribable smells of nostalgia

I grew up in the country. An unincorporated swath of a major county. I now live in the deep city, in a high rise, right next to a freeway, amongst constant (and I mean constant) construction.

If our windows are open there is no, truly fresh air, there is no peace. There is no gentle wafting of delicate curtains, There certainly is no quiet. Noise noise and more noise. Freeway noise. Jack hammer noise. What sounds like giant fan noise, pressure washing noise. The drumming of huge trucks rattling down the freeway. The screeching of cars, going way too fast, that are probably luxury driven by the entitled elite.

Constant noise.

Our windows, given that we live in a high rise on the tenth floor, are long but slender. They give about, when opened, 6 inches of, falsely anticipated, dreamy, non-fresh air, letting in the cacophony of city life.

Nevertheless, every time I open them I find myself smiling throughout the day.

The nostalgia of being a kid, knee deep in a novel I couldn’t put down, eating cheeze-its as a snack, by the open window in my room, curled up on my giant, blue corduroy circle chair, on the perfect summer day, persists. The summer breeze gently lifting my just deeper than sky blue satin curtains in my lime green and light blue room.

The illusion of freshness is more than enough to spark simple joy. At the end of the day, isn’t that all any of us can ask.

I can’t believe I’m posting this for the world to see, but it’s the only photo I could find of my childhood room featuring the blue satin curtains. Bonus points for my paint choices and my beloved Mac, the pup pictured whom I still miss every day.