the gloaming voyeur...

Twilight. Dusk. Gloaming.

This is my favorite time of day. Or night, if you will. I enjoy the dusk. When the light fades enough from the sky that people are forced to turn on their lights. Still enough light lingering to see exterior details, but now with the flick of the switch, I can view inside as well.

I find I'm a bit of a voyeur.

I like to look in the windows and create stories about what lies within.

At dusk the world takes on a certain glow. A certain calmness. A certain settling in.
I like that. It fills me with a sense of peace.

It’s quiet. There’s a solitude about dusk. The time between getting home and going out. On a warm night, like this past week, there is a freshness to the gloam. You can feel the excitement the warm weather brings. The exhilaration felt while driving with car windows open or tops down after the long months of bitter cold. The sounds of conversation and radios overheard. Gathering with friends for a pint, or two, at watering holes with outdoor patios. The smell of barbeques and fire pits hanging heavy in the air, sweetly mixing with the blooming hyacinths and forsythia. Freshly pedicured toes escaping the confines of closed toed shoes loving the feel of the crisp air.

Nights like this, if time allows, I head over to the beach. I sit in the sand and watch the festival of colors displayed before me on the horizon. I could relax and watch the lake at sunset for hours. I take my camera so I can capture that particular moment in time.

Years ago as a passenger in my now ex-husbands car, I sat contentedly looking out the window and peering in the houses we passed. This was our street. Our boulevard. Homes I’ve seen time and time again. It was dusk.

“No matter how many times I drive down this street, I always see a house I havn’t seen before”, I matter-of-factly told him.

He laughed. Heartily. “You crack me up. Nance, all these houses look the same!”

“No. They actually don’t! Look at that one, see how the deep set the windows are? And that one has a large wrap around porch that this one doesn’t. But what's with that portico? Ick. But check out their gorgeous double front door. I'd like that on our house. And see…that one has the kitchen that runs along the outside wall…..” I stopped with my diatribe because I could see he was smiling. He had been poking fun. He knew the houses all are different, but he was just letting me ramble on with my observations.

It's become a running joke between us. Which has now passed onto my daughter..."Hey Mom! Have you seen this house...?", she'll smirk. Ha. Very funny, little one.

Somehow at twilight, when both the exterior and interior are exposed…you see pieces of houses not visible in other light.

I live in an older community. Established in 1889, Lakewood is located just 3 miles west of Cleveland. We are positioned on Lake Erie's coast, the North Coast as they call it here. A small 5.6 mile community with the majority of the homes built between 1900 and 1930. Much of the architecture is distinct among the vintage residential homes. Most can qualify as century homes now. It’s an interesting place. Architecturally and otherwise. Urban suburbia.

This Old House chose Lakewood as the 'Best Place to Buy a House' in 2008. Business Week recognized it as the 'Best Place to Raise a Child' in 2010. With it's outstanding school systems and City services, it's always listed as having one of the Best Libraries in the US for years running. Steps from award winning Metroparks and easy access to all that Cleveland has to offer, all in all, Lakewood is a pretty nice place to live.

I sometimes wonder why my voyeurism of the residential fishbowl hasn’t transferred into a love of reality television shows. I’m not the slightest bit entertained by the likes of them, but could stand outside a strangers window taking in the minute details of their home not realizing how much time has passed.

I mean, I don’t actually stand there staring in. That would be rather sick. But I see things, unconciously gathering information that then allows my mind to wander with its wild scenarios.

The opposite of dusk also has me equally intrigued. Dawn. Sunrise. Aurora.

Add to that the crisp invigoration of an early spring morning, I'm hooked. I'd rather be up than slumber through this. It’s the time when most are still asleep or those awake are just starting their day.

I walk in the early morning. I enjoy exercising before first light. If it doesn’t get done then chances are it isn’t going to happen. It amuses me to pass by a home and recognize the smell of coffee or bacon wafting out into the street. In the spring and summer it’s even more prevalent as windows are open, you hear snippets of conversation along the way to guide the movie playing in your head.

A coffee cup shattered. Was it accidentally dropped or hurled at a wall because of a spouses indifference?

A baby crying. Where is the mother? Too tired to respond immediately or in the shower trying to steal time before the day starts?

A loud television. Are they trying to hear the morning news over the sound of water while brushing their teeth or is it covering the sounds of morning sex from the close proximity of their neighbors?

All these things filter through my mind as I make tracks on the sidewalk. I don’t need an iPod as I walk. I've got my own soundtrack for life. My thoughts keep me plenty entertained. By the time I get back to my house I’ve got several screenplays running. All due to the what I’ve caught, by accident, while briskly passing by out on the tree lawn.

Yesterday I walked home from the local car dealership. I had stopped for a quick service. However, it was going to take a little longer than anticipated, so I decided to hike it back home and return later. It was a warm day, although starting to get windy with a sky threatening rain. Much nicer being in the fresh air than in a dingy waiting room with a TV blaring some horrendous show.

As I walked through the somewhat busy downtown area I smiled at those I passed on the street. I nodded my head in their direction…a gesture of ‘ain’t it beautiful-spring is here-good to be alive’ kind of nod. Some people wouldn’t even meet my gaze. Others sort of sidestepped out of the way. Very few returned my smile of greeting.

I wondered why? Did I appear as a loon smiling along as I walked? Someone just released from that hospital or police station that I passed? I wondered if those driving by me were now playing their own scenarios of this lone woman baring her teeth at passersby.

The voyeur had become the voyee.

That thought amused me even further. And made me grin even more.

Splattered with a few drops of rain, here I was trekking along with an added spring to my step. My reflections entertaining me with each footfall.

I think I might just might write this all down once I get home....
:-)