[The porch next door.]
You can choose how close—or how separated—you are with your neighbors. That’s the funny thing about living in a place like the Fan: win, lose, or draw, your neighbors define your living experience. [Lenny, in Apt 3 above, with the elephant feet and the horrible taste in women/music/hours of sleep; I may curse your name until death. But I still love my apartment.]
But sometimes, the pace of a busy life isn’t enough to keep your subconscious from picking up on little vibes around you.
I knew something was wrong.
I knew he seemed lonely.
And after a long week of coming home from work and not seeing her on the porch with her glass of wine, noting, “Eli was very chatty today! I think he missed you,” or “Where is Eli? My husband has so missed seeing him!”—I wasn’t too surprised to hear she’d passed away from a heart attack last week.
I was just really sad.
Say a little something for the sweet lady next door, who had the cajones to lob treats up to Eli on our porch when she thought we’d left him out there alone, and who has left behind a very sweet, extremely kind-hearted, and inevitably lonely man. Kinda heartbroken tonight; not going to lie.
Life’s short, but made richer by the ones we let into it. So happy for all the nights I wanted so badly to get upstairs and take my shoes off, but lingered for awhile to chat with her.
Sad night in the Fan tonight.
-C&R
Just reading this made me sad, but you’re right about neighbors and people and life being short…realizing a lot of this stuff recently.
I’m coming back here more often than I have recently. I’ve been a bad friend.
The last part. Especially. It means a lot to other people, in ways we don’t even understand, just to take a moment and be kind. And it ends up meaning a lot to us too.
Sad. I’ll be thinking about her husband. You’re a good neighbor, C.