Edge of the Ledge

Edge of the Ledge

She came bustling into the room with an infant in each arm – beautiful children, of crawling age. We were in a tall, old building in the commercial part of the city; only by craning through the glass windows was it possible to see the busy streets below.

She zipped past us without comment and opened one of the windows. Traffic noises wafted in distantly. The building’s façade was of granite and brick, and flat exterior ledges about a foot wide extended beneath and beyond the sill.

She reached through the window frame and set both of her children on the edge of the ledge, calmly and deliberately, then turned to us with a smile as though everything were in perfect order.

We were speechless with astonishment and shock. Well, not totally.

Someone quickly piped up, “Aren’t you worried about them falling?”

She cast a nonchalant glance at the children, who were sitting quietly and playing with their fingers.

“No,” she answered.

“So long as I meditate they will be OK. And anyway, having them there helps me stay focused."