Two Windows: A Different View, A Different You

“It is never too late to be what you might have been.”
— George Eliot

There’s something about this townhouse where I live. It has windows on each end. One faces the street. The other, to a park.

Today it’s 70 degrees in Minnesota, which in April feels like a small miracle. The kind of day that makes you want to do something. Anything. Just to say you were alive for it.

Out the front window, I see a group of people sitting in camp chairs on their driveway, beers in hand, laughter floating into the breeze. I get it. I’ve sat in those chairs before. I know the relief in that bottle. I know the ache it sometimes hides.

Out the back window, it’s a different kind of rhythm. Kids are sprinting across the ballfield, gloves slapping, baseballs flying. Someone’s pushing a toddler on the swings, and there’s a couple playing with dogs in the rink, now thawed from winter’s grip, and converted to a dog park for the summer. Movement. Play. Presence.

I don’t look out either window with judgment. I just notice. And in the noticing, I remember who I was… and who I am now.

You’re Not Too Old and It’s Not Too Late

Change gets sold like some shiny thing reserved for the young, the unburdened, the lucky. You hear people say, “Well, this is just how I am” or “It’s too late to start over now.” And I used to believe that, too. Until I didn’t.

Until I laced up my shoes one morning, not even meaning to hike, but just walk off a rough night. Until I discovered that being outside made me feel something that alcohol used to promise, but never quite delivered. Until I realized that healing didn’t have to be a dramatic rebirth. It could be slow, steady, one muddy step at a time.

The truth is, the window you stare through doesn’t define you. But it can influence you. And sometimes, just turning around. Just changing your view, is the first quiet act of transformation.

I’ve learned that it’s never too late to come back to yourself. Not when you’re 30. Not when you’re 40. Not when you’re tired or stuck or divorced or burned out or halfway convinced that the best parts of life have already passed you by.

You’re not too old. You’re not too far gone. And you’re definitely not alone.

The park is still there. The trail is still waiting.  And no matter what window you’re looking through right now, there’s always another one.