Meditation at the Kitchen Window

MEDITATION AT THE KITCHEN WINDOW / Jeanie Thompson To look up and out is the point to which I've returned. The gridwork of brick on the opposite house: my mantra. And two roses—one red, one salmon— are the dance I witness. Today, the rain we need has faUen, finally, slow and steady. Two hundred mUes away a hurricane snaps and drags the coast, and whole Uves are whisked away Uke a scattering of toys. Here at the window, Tm almost aware of my part in aU this. Centered, I can watch the roses' progress—yesterday in tight buds of promise, today flaring salmon in the wind. Lately, a strand of winter weed has ascended the canes, and again and again I have sent myself out to strip it back, seek the root and puU it whole from the ground. And I could stand here, in the repetition of what I must witness and what I hope to change— If it were not for your immediate, needful cry which causes me to turn, leaving the window for you, my son. 152 · The Missouri Review ...