Sometimes towers are good places to get a view, check your bearings, or--if you are in a biblical mindset at the moment--protect your master's vineyard from an encroaching destroyer.
But sometimes it is just a cage.
A cage which taunts with a view of what you could have, but for lack of exit are denied. I call it Rapunzelitis. Perched stoically on my balcony, watching life pass all around me, but at mercy to the whims of my captor. I pause, holding my breath as a gardener passes beneath me, afraid he will look up and catch me watching. Praying that he does and doesn't mind a long climb up a slippery braid. Alas, something I have heard before (probably in spy movies) is that people seldom look up.
I can't believe that I lived 22.5 years, graduated from college with honors, moved all by myself not once, not twice, but three times, ending up halfway halfway around the globe, only to be denied permission to leave the house. By a housemaid. Who is almost my own age.
My Lady Rapunzel, get comfortable.
Apparently you have a long wait.
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