There’s an open window in my grandmother’s house that hasn’t been closed for years. Top floor, back room to the left, as wide as it can go. The curtains are always open, fluttering in the breeze, easy access to any who might want it.

I’ve asked her, many times, why she hasn’t shut that window and I’ve warned her, many times, of what could happen if she doesn’t. And always she comes out with the same response and the same assurance; that she will never close it.

When I was little I didn’t really understand what she meant. It was just a window in the guest bedroom that had hardly been touched, letting in a draft. I’d often try to sneak upstairs and close it, just to see if the house would suddenly explode or if the sky would melt, but she always caught me, soft hands on rebellious little shoulders, steering me back downstairs.

Every other window could be opened and closed at will. So, of course, I made a point of constantly opening and closing the ones in the rooms she was in, just to see if I could spark a reaction from her and figure out what was so special about the one upstairs. But nope, nothing.

As I got older, I began to understand. I could see on grandma’s face how much it meant to her and I stopped trying to sneak off and close it. Slowly it started to sink in and suddenly it was the most reasonable thing I had ever heard.

I’m still unsure why it took me so long to get it.

Because every time I asked her why she wouldn’t shut the window, her response was always the same and yet it never made any sense at first.

But now it means everything.

“Grandma, why don’t you just close it?” I would ask, again and again and again.

“Because, my dear, it’s not just a window. It’s a reminder.”

“ A reminder for what?”

Grandma would always smile to herself then, arm around my shoulders, “for the days when I feel a little lost, a little homesick. To remind me that, no matter where I am in the world, there’s always a reason to come home. Always a place to return to. Always love waiting.”

And one day, when I was old enough and I asked once more, it was then that I realised it was never just a window, wide open on the top floor, back room to the left. It was so much more than that.

It was us.

“It’s a reminder, my dear, that there’s always a window to come back and close.”