From The Roundhole

I spend quite a bit of time now on my new porch. I read, watch the birds, but mostly, I find myself wondering about the other houses on the block. I can see a dozen or more from the porch. I don't know who lives in any of them but one. Late at night I watch the lights, on and off, and I wonder who lives there. Are they happy? Are they playing with their children, holding their loved ones? So many different scenarios. When I was little I can remember watching airplanes and would invent stories about all the people inside, where they were going and why. This is the same, but more personal, and stranger. I know...I'm odd.