Outside Looking In

The last few weeks I have discovered the luxury of my extra-large, 4’ x 6’ fire escape. By fire escape standards this feels expansive, and easy to access via a small step-up from my bathroom window. Our backyard is private but hums during the weekends with long narrow gardens backed up to each other—hammocks, grills, umbrellas, benches, flowers, vegetables, dogs, babies, drunks, some distant bocce ball. None of the neighboring houses rise above four stories so the sky still feels close.

I’ve been imagining the infinite possibilities for my fire escape—grilling station, happy hour venue with roommates, lawn chair platform, book-reading corner, clothesline for bleaching white laundry, a breezy seat for a beer with a friend. Last night I climbed onto my metal deck to escape the slighty-above-my-head Spanish chatter in the living room and I looked into my two bedroom windows. The room looked warm with the white curtains my best friend made in college, the closet doors splayed open with clothing falling out, my students’ work propped on the mantel, various IKEA light fixtures— and I thought to myself, “Hmm, I wouldn’t mind living there.”