Through the Window
Today is no ordinary day in Maycomb County; it's the chilly eve of Christmas. Pine trees are covered with a fine blanket of snow, and the streetlights are adorned with bright red bows that just scream of holiday cheer. The smell of sweet cinnamon and allspice mixed with the pleasant aroma of honey hams really signifies that it's Christmas, or so I hear. All of the houses decked out with a multitude of different colored lights are a real treat for the eyes, along with their frosted window panes illuminated by candle light. Across the street I can hear the sounds of carols being sung by little children, their voices going slightly flat at the chorus, but none the less pleasant. Talks of what to buy and snippets of gossip about who kissed whom under the mistletoe float throughout the air along with that wonderful feeling of Christmas time.
A snow effigy stands tall in my neighbor's yard, this one resembling a chubby man topped off with a red hat, two pieces of charcoal for eyes, a carrot nose, buttons for his mouth, and two carrot rounds for his cheeks. It's a figure that most children between the ages of 4 and 13 grow to love: Santa Claus. I say "most" children because I myself have never experienced this version of Christmas.
Outside my house, I can hear the faint voices of two women talking. One belongs to Miss Stephanie, while I recognize the other to be Miss Rachael.
"That poor family, don't even got the courtesy to put out a few lights for the Christmas season," Miss Stephanie condemned, her voice disdainful with a Southern twang. "I'll tell ya Miss Rachel, it's people like them that disgrace our town."
"I bet'cha they tried, Miss Stephanie, but that wacky son of theirs probably threatened to hang them with the lights!"
I could hear them laugh for a few seconds as they continued to walk down the street. It's people like them who make me want to stop talking to others. If I could, that is.
My Christmas does not consist of presents, food, or family. Rather, it is like most days, except a little different. A long silver chain wrapped around my leg anchors me to the walls, white barren walls that seem to go on forever. The loneliness is at times unbearable, and the emptiness of the room brings me to multiple levels of solitude. The stone floor beneath my legs is like ice. You'd think I'd be used to it, but it's especially cold today. My only hope for salvation lies beyond the thin pane of glass that separates me from a normal life. It's my sneak-peek into the world I'll never know, never experience.
The window starts to fog up from my hot breath, obscuring my line of sight. Without a second thought, I wipe it away with the sleeve of my shirt… and then freeze. I looked out the window and suddenly it isn't a view of the outside world before me. It's my life. A different life though: a life that I've longed for. I can see my family next to me, my mom and dad both with a genuine smile plastered on their faces. I see us at Christmas time, all happy, grinning from ear to ear. But as sudden as the vision had come, it vanishes into thin air, leaving me with just a vision of plain old Maycomb County.
I slam my fist into the window pane, the splinters slowly digging their way into my skin. The blood starts to trickle down my arm to my elbow, but I don't care. I know there's no hope for me. I'm "Boo" Arthur Radley, forever destined to be looking through the window.