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.

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