The Window


He sat at the dining room table and looked out the window, his favourite window from which to let his mind wander, wander across the rooftops, past the two church spires and into the countryside, up and over the distant wind turbines and out of sight into the hills and mountains of the sierra. His mind wandered briefly to other countries and soared sixty miles high into the blue sky, wandered through fond memories and special places, toyed with new ideas and felt his spirits greatly lifted before returning, the way he had left, back to the dining room table.
His ramblings weren’t always this splendid but if he wanted to know how happy he was, he only had to watch where his mind went.