The Wall with a Window

If these walls could talk they would tell you about young Avery Moss, on a healing journey, standing woefully at her window. In an excruciatingly small, big city apartment where where there were 4 (and a half) of us walls and only one window, which lived on the west wall.

Avery fled from a toxic home at nearly 17, she took the first apartment she could find that would accept her application without inquiring too deeply about her age. She ended up in our studio of a large, yet cozy home split into multiple levels and studio apartments. Owned by an elderly woman who’s husband had passed and who had no children.

Her name was Mrs. Laoshowiski, she was brilliant and kind, had white hair she kept in tidy braids and a plump figure. She always had an apron on and mostly spend her days in her kitchen. What lucky walls lived in that room as the smells from her home made cooking graced each one.

She had personally hand-papered each of us walls in darling wallpaper, hoping to fill the large bedrooms with children. When her and her husband didn’t conceive and grew older, they began to turn them into apartments to rent them out. The tears shed washing away the hopes for nurseries and children; there was a softeness that faded in them as the older couple installed tiny stoves and cabinets where a crib and mobile should be. I’ll never forget the sound the tears made as they silently fell down cheeks, but hit the floor in a downpour.

Mrs.Laoshowiski took to Avery right away and coddled her, but Avery had a harder time getting comfortable. Opening up wasn’t a strong suit for her and she initially wasn’t interested in “family” but especially a ‘mother.’

How funny it is humans tend to reject what they need most. Most days, especially in the winter, Avery felt as though we, the walls, were slowly closing in as though to crush her spirit. Of course; that’s never our intention. She tended to stay inside, which would drive any human partially mad. The thought of being crushed made Avery’s heart pound wildly, almost as though we could hear it. Nightfall was coming, and the setting sun declaring darkness would once again be crushing down on the world.

“Still, anything is better than where I came from,” she breathed in a huff, still staring out the window on the west wall as a certain darkness of the mind began to bloom… vivid darkness started taking over Avery as she stared blankly at the window… knowing she often went to a place in her mind that seemed safe, but often took her to horrible places, I wished I could yell to her and call her back. She shook her head, hoping to shake the fear that was rising up in her closing her throat… It must be hard not to fall into flashbacks from her ‘old’ life. Full of trauma and abuse, she couldn’t imagine still living there and I’m glad she wasn’t. We loved having Avery with us, aside from her past and some occasional uprisings or reclusiveness, Avery was pleasant and a fine companion for a wall. She rested her head on the wall next to the window, as she always tended to, trying to soak in the last light of the sun before night officially fell.

Her mind ran wild as she looked from the window to the wall next to her, where her calendar hung. Her 24th birthday was quickly approaching with a speed she seemed to feel terribly uncomfortable with. Birthdays hadnt yet been pleasant experiences for her, that we could see. I suppose she didn’t anticipate this one would hold many happy memories either. She reached her hand up on the wall and rested it just below the calendar. Something about her gentle touch always brought a calmness to the room. How could someone who had face so much hardness in life, be so soft secretly. We loved to see that side of her.

The west wall with the window felt cold and smooth to the touch. Somehow it wasn’t a mean coldness, but refreshing. The delicate wall paper was smooth and had tiny roses patterned on parts of it. It was peeled up in a few spots. We used to be embarrassed by it, but Avery would often gently push the pieces back and that was darling to us.

Avery smiled as she leaned, thanking us for having been her constant support through her healing journey. Maybe this birthday would be different from the rest. One could hope. She had worked tirelessly to heal from her past. We saw that and hoped for her, more than she hoped for herself.

“We’ve been through a lot,” she said rubbing the spot on the west wall that often supported her though the last years. The wall of course didn’t respond, but she felt the slightest indent from where she leaned onto it to stare out of the window throughout the years. If only we could speak to her, to shout our support. We all did, in fact, support her.

“The stories you could tell…” she drifted the statement off… and turned to flood the tiny space with artificial light, until the sun rose once again. The silence in the room was nearly comforting as you could hear the buzz of the city outside the window. The darkness somehow wasn’t swallowed up with the lights of the city and it rested on her window sill. Shadows danced on each of us walls as cars drove by and she moved about the room in the light of her many lamps. We loved to feel the slight coolness of the shadows as they touched us. Avery brought so much life to our world. Not just to ours, but the whole world; that is until…

The world outside the window on the west wall

In the wee hours of the morning, Avery sat up in a cold sweat. She must’ve had a bad dream. Every light was still on in the little studio, Avery didn’t sleep in the dark. We, the walls, didn’t mind the soft glow of her lamps. Something about the slight warmth was pleasant. Being able to see Avery even night was calming, even though walls are quite stoic.

Avery looked towards me, the east wall. I held a vintage clock that ticked quietly and tirelessly. The slight thumping sensation was annoying initially, but became a constant comfort after a while. I’m not sure what the clock read, but Avery seemed agitated by it’s response. She pushed her hands roughly into her smooth brown hair, riling it wildly as she piled it up on top of her head.

“I suppose we’ll start the day early then…” she slowly dropped her hair and the pieces fell carelessly around her face. Today would be a work day, so we would be alone as she spend her day out of the apartment. It would be lonely, but that is sometimes nice. She was gone most days from sun up, to sometimes after the sun was far beneath the horizon out the west window. Avery would always come in tired, passing out quickly into her bed; sometimes even without supper.

Avery rushed about getting breakfast for herself, tidying up, and putting on a plain uniform for her job. Sometimes in the morning she would sing softly to herself. On pleasantly warm days she would open the window and let the city sounds come in. The beeping of cars, buses driving by, birds singing in the few scant trees on the block. It was most pleasing when she sang along with the sounds of the life outside the window. Like a symphony of chaos coming into alignment to form a song.