View

When I was a kid, well teenager, also had a bedroom along the side of our house. My sister had a bedroom with a view of the backyard.

Yes, this is a second child syndrome moment because, it is what it is.

My view was of a grey fence that actually also had racks added so my dad could store his extra timber, metal and god knows what else. Like the double garage wasn’t big enough.

The neighbours loved to work late into the night over the fence in their carport on their cars. So, bright lights and late nights aplenty.

I recall a brief time, my older sister and I slept in a caravan behind our Aunt’s house, mum and dad were on a mattress in their big back room. My parents were building the house I grew up in. I lived in that house until I was nineteen.

In that bedroom that was view-less, having moved out of home to move to Melbourne to be a poor art student. I’ve moved many times. Have I counted? Yes. I’ve got to find my list. Then add a few places to it. But I hate moving and I finally have a reasonable view.

Ok, now I can see other people on their balconies and other apartments. But I have a view.

Blessed.