20. I Love ... 9 pane windows

The real kind.

The old kind.

Wooden frame

with

layers and layers and layers

of springtime paint.

Wash the glass,

paint the wood.

We're fresh and ready

for a new season.

Year after year.

And then one day,

not.

'We'll leave it for next year.'

Then the next.

The nine pane owners are

old

and so is the window.

It weathers.

And weathers.

And then it gets replaced.

By vinyl.

Never needs painting.
Never weathers.

It is void of layers of paint.
And character.
And history.
And life.

The old nine pane
has a story.
It has seen the frost.
Breath upon it.
Faces
up close.

Peering faces from
outside in
and
inside out.

Then abandoned.
Replaced.
Discarded.
Blanketed now by weeds.

I find it.
I want it.
Because
I LOVE
nine pane windows.