Morning window

This is the view I snapped from my bed this morning. I lay there thinking about how much it had changed in less then a year. How the one before had been my view for 11 whole years before I moved. The window then hanging over to my right, shuttered against the sound of West 60th and Broadway, and covered by almost always closed dark green Venetian blinds. There was no point in opening them, as the only thing to see was the Time Warner building blocking any glimpse of the park (though sometimes I did lift the shade to see if people were carrying umbrellas). Walking up in my shuttered room was like waking up in a dim cozy cocoon before descending 11 floors down to face the city day.

Now my morning window lies over to my left. And is almost always at least a little open so I can feel the breeze and hear the birds in the trees right outside. Our window points towards the sea and even though our apartment is too far and too low for a view, you can still feel it in the air. But  my favorite thing about the window is the birds. If I peer out I can see them in the branches, nonchalantly looking about as they make their festive noise.

The new window is indicative of everything else that has changed too. The rhythms and patterns of my days. The constant sunshine with which they begin this time of year in Tel Aviv. The way I move laterally to get to work across the apartment instead of down to the street and then the subway further below. Everything is quieter now too, the forever longing of New York replaced with the calm contentment of knowing better where I belong. There is still so much I need to do to feel truly settled here but I know that it will come.

In the meantime, there's the view.