I think of this room.
This room is the third level of a barn-faced 100-year-old home in Elmwood Park, Illinois; just outside the Chicago city limits.
I think of this room, and the door to the nursery on the east side of the house.
I think of this room, and the sightlines through the opening of a door that shows a window. The window shows the blocks laying east onto Harlem Avenue; the western edge of Chicago.
I think of this room tonight and how the moon glows through the window. It positively glows. It glows in a dream-like state; the beams of orange, red, and yellow cascading to the remnants of snow laying on various garage rooftops or reflecting off windows in houses nearby.
I think of the kids previously in this room: kids from previous families, kids of previous nationalities, families of immigrants settling, kids of my own.
I think of the kids laying on their beds, looking through the door that looks through the window at the glowing moon of previous Christmas Eves.
I think of the kids looking at the moon and the dreams they shared.
In my home, in this house, this house of 100 years, my town has housed first-generation Italians, Polish, second-third generation Americans, and me. I am the mutt looking through the door that leads to the nursery that has the window that captures the moon.
We want a horse, we want a pony. We want toy soldiers, monkeys in a barrel, Nintendo, BB-guns, skateboards, baseball bats, a globe, some love, acceptance, our siblings to not be sick anymore, dad to stop drinking, the bully to leave me alone, the new Beatles album, dad to come home from the war. We are linked over 100 years by this room, the window, and the moon.
We dream similar dreams, we ask for peace to come from those dreams. Can we listen to God or the moon?
This Christmas dream, in this old nursery room. This Christmas moon that links our dreams. The dreams still live in the nursery room.
The moon has now risen above the old telephone wires; out of sight.
In my room, looking east through the nursery, there is a window that is dark.
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