Something about looking through a glass window, watching life go before you, as if you’re just a quiet observer, immune to the outside world...it’s one of my greater appreciations of life. 

I love a room based on the amount of sunlight it’s flourished with- the bigger the windows, the better. 

Sunlight makes everything come alive-it hits the window and you don’t want to look away…the moment is calm, clear. How can it be that for a moment you’re an outsider, when you spend your whole life living on the inside?

Something about how a piece of glass separates me from all these people. Something about looking out the window that changes the way I think about everything. Perspective. It’s a funny thing. How who you’re with, where you are, and what you’re doing somehow come together to form these perfect feelings that we like to call memories. When there’s those moments that come alive when you think about them- you remember the air you were breathing and the curves of people’s faces, the song that was playing that reminds you of what you were feeling and where you imagined your life going.

I sit in this chair for hours, drinking my coffee, doing my work, and looking out the window, watching these people.

People running, professors walking swiftly with their brief cases, people texting across the cross walk, people walking alone, or people walking with friends.

Just saw a girl fly by on a scooter. That’s a first around here, you go girl.

Don’t you ever wonder where they’re all going?

I think we tend to forget that…. We’re all just people. Really though. We all want the same things at the end of this. And our status in this life doesn’t change the fact that we’re still human beings, living on a planet surrounded by billions of other human beings. Think about all the different people you talk to in one day…

Friends, classmates, parents, professors, doctors, dentists, coaches, mentors, neighbors, lawyers. Cashiers, desk workers, strangers on the street with cute dogs, operators on the phone.

We tend to treat people differently based on their status, or role in our lives. But what if we didn’t? How would people really act if they pretended like status didn’t exist?

Today I was on the phone with a guy from my car insurance company, and he was really down to earth and easy to talk to. He didn’t treat me like I was a stupid 19 year-old girl who didn’t know anything about car parts. He was so cool that I wanted to talk to him about more than just cars or claims or money or insurance. I wanted to ask the dude if he was happy.

After we hung up, he sent me an email, going over a claim we spoke about on the phone. I responded, “You da bombbbbbbbb” without even really thinking about it.

Because he is. And someone’s gotta keep it real in a world full of fake.

And I’m not saying we should all go running around baking each other cupcakes and painting each other rainbows. But it comes down to Kindness. It goes a long way, and to get it, you gotta give it. And it just makes life a lot easier. And more enjoyable. And more worth it.

It doesn’t really sound like that big of a deal, but as everyone says, “It’s the little things.” Because life really is all about the little things. And good people make for a good life.

Last week, I interviewed Richard Momeyer, a philosophy professor here at Miami, for a story I’m writing in my Journalism class. I drove to Dr. Momeyer’s house here in Oxford, and stepped out of my car feeling a little antsy. It’s always a little nerve-wracking interviewing someone you’ve never met before.

But the second I stepped in the door, I was greeted by a massive, fluffy, labradoodle named Fred, who instantly eased any kind of anxiety or tension I may had been feeling prior to.

And then I looked around, and somehow saw a different light of life when I was in this house. Everything just made sense. The way the sunlight leaked through the window and reflected perfectly off the counter-tops, the way Richard Momeyer sat in his chair, with a lamp and book resting beside him. He was in his element in this living room.

The way the house felt lived in, and loved in.

I’ve only felt this way one other time, where I thought to myself, “This is the way I want to live my life when I’m older,” and it was when I stayed with a family in Maine last summer.  

I craved the way these people found happiness in such simplicity.

I pulled out the driveway of Dr. Momeyer’s house, as I watched him playing fetch with Fred in the yard. I saw the smile on his face, the way you could tell it was now the little things in life that made him happy.

I cruised away, smiling myself. The simplicity of it all.