Bay Windows

Julie has spent years of her life in apartments. In the late-aughts, we could barely make our rents, and these apartments mostly sucked. Throughout the teens, they got nicer, little by little. Today, she enjoys the run of a lovely home in Westfield, New Jersey. At some point, I realized that Julie enjoyed sun-splashed spots where she could look outside and survey the world. 

I owned a co-op in Forest Hills, Queens, New York City, where we resided for four years. This was not a serviceable, but glamorous apartment. Julie’s favorite spot was a random window in the kitchen, located along a back entry to the building. The sun hit this window in a peculiar way that made it brighter than the rest of the apartment. And its spot next to a building entry meant that people passed by and saw her. It did not take long before she had a small following of admirers. 

“I’m sorry, my son just loves your cat,” a neighbor told me. Her son, who was probably five years old, would press his face against the kitchen window to see Julie. 

(Ironically, this very window provided to be a major pain in my ass when I was trying to sell the apartment. Prospective buyers did not like that people could enter the building right next to your kitchen.) 

A previous residence in Yonkers, New York was a first-floor unit with a sprawling window that faced the Hudson River. It was a nice building, and a modern apartment. We felt impressed with ourselves to live there. But we chose the first floor because it was much cheaper than the higher-up floors. (And it was in a rough part of a rough town.) Julie and Ron loved the sweeping corner windows. And more than a few locals enjoyed them, the matching black-and-white cats frolicking along the building’s edge. 

A side note: while Julie loved performing for these strangers, had they actually entered our apartment, she would have wanted nothing to do with them. This was in her younger and more reclusive years, you see. Like many tortured artists throughout history, she could portray a larger-than-life presence onstage, then slink behind the shadows once the curtains dropped.

When house hunting last summer, I looked for spots that Julie would like. I mentioned this in passing once to our realtor, and he looked at me like I was insane.

Perhaps. But a house must be a home for the whole family. And for me, that includes Julie. 

The home we ended up buying includes a glorious bay window in the living room, looking out onto the front lawn and the street ahead. The sun shines through and provides Julie a glorious view of the world. More than a few times, I’ve caught her basking in this spot at sunrise or sunset, catching the light at the perfect angle, admiring the world beyond.