"Here it comes!" I pushed open the east-facing window with a sense of satisfaction and anticipation. The familiar roar grew louder and approached my ears. Then, its figure swept past my eyes, followed by a powerful gust of wind and a loud noise that violently shook the glass, as if it could tear it apart and continue to shake more things. Amidst this deafening roar, what I felt was a rare tranquility.

I lived next to an international airport in an older apartment building. From childhood to adulthood, my biggest interest was climbing up to the empty room on the top floor, opening the window, and looking out at the airport ahead. The vast airport unfolded before my eyes, accompanied by the magical and wonderful scenery. The faint smell of aviation fuel reached me, making me linger.

My parents worked in civil aviation and traveling was routine for them. When I was young, I couldn't help but feel lost, sad, and even fearful because of their absence. At times like this, my grandmother would take me hand in hand to climb to the top floor, enter the room, open the window, and then hold me in her arms, gently saying, "Do you see the planes outside? Your parents are up there. Your dad is flying the plane in front. He's amazing! Look at those landing planes. When your dad lands one, he'll come back." As planes took off and landed outside the window, I stared at them, hoping my father would return soon on one of them. So every time a plane landed, I would turn my head naively and ask, "Grandma, is it this one?" She would smile and say, "No, that's a cargo plane. Your dad flies passenger planes. Just wait a little longer." And so, I asked tirelessly, and my grandmother answered patiently. The two of us stood hand in hand by the window until the last trace of sunset faded away.

It was the most enjoyable time of my entire childhood, being loved carefree and having what they call "anticipation."

With these anticipations, I started to delve into the study of airplanes as I grew older. That window became a place of joy and imagination for me. I opened it, skillfully unfolded the aeronautical chart, sat on a cushioned seat, and delicately observed the various parts of the planes through binoculars. This was my pleasure; this was my passion. Every time I saw a plane, this power and elegance converged into a pearl of industry, whizzing past me, engines roaring with all their might, fiercely defying the force of gravity that held them down, tearing through the surrounding silence. In the end, gravity was defeated, and the plane became an arrow piercing the sky, flying towards deeper, farther, and more mysterious realms. Adorned by white clouds and illuminated by the setting sun, it displayed its nobility and purity. At that moment, an indescribable admiration, tranquility, and indifference welled up from the depths of my heart.
That window remained open, accompanying me through most of my youth, filled with confusion and hesitation.

However, as the philosopher said, happiness and beauty are always fleeting. Due to a change in high schools, I had to leave that window behind and rent a place in the city. It was then that I realized the significance of that window to me and the separation from tranquility.

Inside my room in the old city area, there was also a window, but outside it, there was only an old street, devoid of the atmosphere of the past, and it didn't give any expectations or tranquility. I tried to adapt to this window's presence. Unfortunately, all my efforts failed. When I opened the window during the day, all I heard were the harsh honks of cars, people in the neighborhood chatting about everyday life, and the sound of children playing mixed with piercing cries. Admittedly, these sounds were much quieter than the noise of airplanes, and I didn't dislike them. But over time, I grew tired of this homogeneity, which didn't provide any emotional value. I closed that window. Late at night, while struggling to write a paper without any direction, I tried to open it for some fresh air. This time, the sounds that entered my ears were the agonizing cries of young laborer overwhelmed by work pressure, and the suppressed tears in the voice of migrant workers talking to their families. Then, silence fell over the street again.

Indeed, due to my previous experiences, I had a certain understanding of windows: they should take away people's stress and worries, giving them the joy and hope of life. But in this incredibly noisy city, this window shattered all my beautiful illusions. I became disappointed, yearning, agitated, and even wanted to soundproof the glass.

I felt that the joy in my heart and the things I cherished were drifting further and further away, disappearing into the dense mist.

Until one summer vacation, I could live near the airport again, and the first thing I did upon returning home was to go up to the top floor. With a sense of long-awaited familiarity and a hint of homesickness, I forcefully pushed open that window that I had known so well since childhood. Suddenly, the difference in air pressure between inside and outside sent the air mixed with the smell of aviation fuel rushing towards me. I heard the roar of planes again, saw the takeoffs and landings, and smelled the long-lost scent. Sitting on the familiar cushion, I enjoyed the present moment. At that moment, all the accumulated worries, anxieties, and uneasiness disintegrated amidst the deafening roar of engines. I seemed to see all the scenes of my growth and all the stories associated with this window. Excitement, regret, moved, and relieved, it was like overturning a bottle of mixed emotions, and tears finally burst forth. I strongly realized that although it was noisy here, it was an indispensable haven of tranquility in my life!

All of this reminded me of the plot of Hermann Hesse's "Siddhartha." Siddhartha embarked on a path of asceticism to find inner tranquility and indifference. He went through the trials of spiritual practice and experienced the worldly pleasures of lust and intoxication. Finally, he found what he called peace by the river in his hometown, or more accurately, it was the true harbor of his soul, the pure land he loved most.

Perhaps, the window facing the airport is the harbor in my heart. There are too many stories and thoughts here. In the fast-paced modern life, people are busy pursuing their own goals and often neglecting the places they love without even realizing it. As a result, a window in their hearts will gradually close, and a familiar feeling will dissipate. However, after experiencing numerous trials and tribulations, one will eventually realize and return to that window. Just gently push it open, and the long-lost tranquility and serenity will naturally return!