The best view in my house is from the upstairs bathroom. The best seat in the house, truly, is the toilet, from which the window frames a southern panorama of pasture, fields, and far-reaching horizon. And should I be reclining in the bath, I can see the tips of two large evergreens against a backdrop of ever-changing prairie sky. Often, a magpie or robin or hawk or owl, depending on the season, will perch on a tip-top branch, balancing against the breeze.

There are things that challenge me about this bathroom. The tub is old and hard to clean. The space is narrow and I can’t reach all the way under the bathtub.

But the view, oh my. It takes my breath away.

I’ve watched my husband doing chores, caught him in his alone time. I’ve seen him tender with cats and dogs and goats. I’ve watched him stand, arms folded on fence, contemplating something. Is he thinking? Praying? Planning?

I’ve gazed down on children playing. Kite flying and tree climbing and llama riding.

It’s from this spot I’ve seen the sun rise and the first snow. I’ve marvelled at the turning of the leaves in the fall, and watched them blow across the yard.

From this humble space, through this window, I’ve watched our lives unfold.

In my home, the view from the bathroom offers a unique perspective on our lives. I love the story I see from there.

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