Penny in the Window
Everyday at a certain time, the light is just right outside and the street gets a little busier. This is Penny’s signal to sit and watch for Rory to come home. This is, after all, the magic hour. Commuters pour off the train at Grove Street, heading to their apartments in the Historic Van Vorst and Liberty Harbor neighborhoods, or plodding their way along the sidewalk to jump on the Light Rail or the Ferry in the marina nearby.
Every person that walks by has the potential to be Rory. Rory is the love of Penny’s life, and she really doesn’t like it when he goes to work. She will hop in the window throughout the day, between naps, just to check who is out there.
When I ask, “Is Rory home?” Her response will be to immediately jump in the window and camp out, eyes and ears at attention for hours, skewed at an ever so melancholy angle.
But at the magic hour, she gets this glassy-eyed sad look. Its as if she thinks Rory will never get home. He’ll never get home fast enough to give her a hug and kiss the top of her head. This is when I find her laying down flat in the window, nose pressed to the glass. She might wag her tail, thinking she sees him, then stop and sigh because its just the Fedex guy, or our neighbor.
She scans the eyes and the tops of the heads of everyone who walks by on the sidewalk… until that moment that he appears at the corner and all is well.
I often see people stop on the street, look up at Penny in the window, and take their phones out to take her picture. I imagine the photos are probably difficult to achieve because she marks up the glass with nose marks.
She is always beautiful, but its something special that she is framed in the windows of our building, looking like something is coming around the corner.
(Because he is. He has to. He’ll be home soon.)