You are chasing your sister around the Rotunda at Croome. The echoes of your childish laugher flit around the space, like startled birds.
There is something strangely tranquil here, despite your sudden and boisterous intrusions – a sense of something ancient in the atmosphere; things happened here once, it seems to say.
Your sister’s attention is not kept for long. She shuffles towards the bright square of the entrance, keen to head back outside and find daddy. You, however, linger.
Suddenly quiet, you move towards the window and place your hand on the cool pane. I often catch you in these moments, still and far away. It seems like time stops – though in reality your gaze is held for a minute at most.
You turn, just for a moment.
“Mummy, I can see trees and grass and the blue sky!”
Piece of my heart, windows let in the light but they also shut out the world.
I hope you feel the warmth of sunlight on your face, every day. I hope hear the breeze singing in the trees and feel the grass beneath your toes.
I hope you don’t stand behind that pane too long, too often, fascinated but separate. I see your face reflected in the glass; I see the beauty of everything reflected in you.