Why do we hold onto things for so long? Was it that I couldn't see past the original Craftsman style, douglas fir sash and divided panes? Was it that I couldn't believe how good the change would be? My house is a modest bungalow from the early 30s, but it is not the last or best example of its kind. I found that I can maintain its integrity and beauty without sacrificing my comfort and enjoying improvements.
I feel like I relearn this lesson over and over in my life. I am decisive in nature. Even when I make decisions quickly, I don't make them lightly. It is critical for me to take care, because once I have made a decision, I don't reverse it very easily. I rarely regret. But sentimental feelings sometimes get in the way and slow me down. Maybe that is not such a bad thing, either. I don't know.
The new ones are everything a window should be. (They are the red metal clad in the top photo. The old ones are on the bottom with aluminum storms. Yuck.) Now, when I stand in my living room, it feels ten degrees cozier and, the big surprise, is how hushed the entire house has become. I hadn't noticed until now how loud the outside distractions had grown over the years. I look out, through unblemished panes that open when I want, and shut thoroughly without a struggle and block outside drafts. I see things more clearly.
What was that romance for the past? And fear of the new? I still have beautiful wood windows and trim. The style has not been compromised like I had feared. And they work really well. It appears so obvious in hind sight. Sentiment is lovely with a limit. After letting go of the old attachment, I freely enjoy the new. And the liberation sends me running to dusty boxes while the sensation is fresh. What else am I hanging onto? Ah, yes, I am feeling Spring. And it feels good.