I
write often about my grandparents’ house and the reason is that I lived there
from age two weeks to age five. From
then onward, I spent about every summer day there and when I was twelve, my
parents got divorced. My mom and I had moved close to their house: It was my
constant. As a teenager and adult, I still frequented that house for my
grandmother had become a widow and I loved being with her. The house was built
by my step-grandfather in the early 1900’s for him and his wife who later died.
My grandmother married him in 1938 moving in with her two teenage daughters—one
of whom would be my mother. As for the green glass window, there were actually
two of them in this large two-story house: One was on the landing in the
downstairs hall and one was in the dining room. Both were half windows placed
high up and could be opened with a hinge. Once you opened them, there were
screens behind each. I’m sure that the glass has a name but to me they looked “Coke”
bottle green.
The
green glass window in the dining room mystified me for the light streamed
through it and landed smack onto the shiny mahogany table sending green sparks
everywhere. Over the years as a child, I must have stared at that window a
thousand times. In the summers at dinner, my step-grandfather would open that
window to let air into the room. Why he didn’t open up the bay windows that were on either side remains a
mystery to me to this day. Those windows were the old double hung type; I never
remember anyone opening them up except the ones in the kitchen. Strange in
retrospect.
I’d
sit at the dining room table with my grandparents, my mother and numerous
relatives nightly. Summers I remember the most because it was so hot. Here we
were eating hot food, sweltering and praying for a rush of air through that
green window. It never happened from
what I remember at all.
As
I got older, I realized that I loved that green window because it had been
magical to me as a child. When my grandmother died, my mother and her sister
inherited the house. After several years of their attempts at renting it out
only to see disaster, they decided to sell it. I was devastated. But I was
married, had a house and a baby son. On a whim, I asked my mother to ask the
realtor if I could have one of those windows; the other would go to one of my
cousins. Guess what? I got the dining room green glass window—casing and all.
And I still have it in my basement. Does it belong there? No. It actually would
fit inside any of my new windows in this house if properly mounted. And it’s
going to happen because I think I need a little sparkly green magic. Who wouldn’t
want that?
Sherry
Hill