To The Man Across The Street

To The Man Across the Street,

I never knew your name. And I didn’t know your past. But I knew your daily routine and felt I had a fair handle on your life for the past five years.

In the city, we have these unspoken relationships with our neighbors. We can be a huge part of each other’s lives without ever so much as having said hello, or meeting in person.

You lived in the building across the street from me, and our windows directly faced each other. From the time I moved in, to the time you departed. You reminded me so much of my dad. But more on that later.

I know the building across the street is an old person’s home. You had your own place, with very minimal supervision, but I assume you had an emergency call button, and I know you had assistance should you need it.  You struck me as very independent. You were always by yourself. I never saw anyone else in your apartment, until today.

You kept to a schedule. A very tight schedule. At least from what I could tell. It wasn’t like I watched you all the time. Or like I was on enough of a schedule to know your total schedule. But, your windows were always open, and my windows were always open. And we could see right into each other’s lives. I often wonder what you thought of mine. How much you noticed the things I was doing.

It brought me comfort to look over at you from time to time. You were so regimented. Like my dad.  Every single night, before you went to bed at 10pm, you did your exercises. These exercises were so cute and funny to me. They appeared like they were for the sole purpose of just helping your circulation. I used to do impressions of them to my visitors because I liked them so much. The first one, was, you would stand and rock back and forth from your tip toes to your heels for a few minutes.  Then, you would get into bed, like on your back, curl up your legs, and roll back and forth for several minutes.

I never saw you watch TV, from what I could tell. I couldn’t even see a TV in your apartment. Did you have one? It looked like you sat at a desk most of the day. Possibly working on a puzzle? Maybe model ships? Reading? All of the above? None of the above? Maybe it was me projecting qualities about my dad onto you, but I just didn’t take you for the TV type. You seemed like the intellectual type.

I never ever saw a visitor in your place. Were you lonely? Or did you like it that way? You struck me as an introvert for that reason. An intellectual, introvert, who liked to keep to his routine. I never saw you talk on the phone either. I hope that you were happy. I hope that you were loved. I hope you didn’t die with no one by your side. Unless you preferred it that way.

It brought me great comfort to look in on you over the last half of a decade, and see you at the same routine day in and day out. All of those qualities I assumed you to be reminded me of my dad. And it made me feel like he was living just across the street, cause I don’t see him as much as I would like. You were tall and skinny like him. You kept to yourself. And your schedule and hobbies were a lot like him too. Of all the inconsistencies in my life, you were a constant. And now, like everything else in 2020, you are gone and it isn’t the same.

Speaking of my inconsistencies. I wonder what you thought of me. I wonder if I was shocking to you? Did I ever stop being a shock to you? Or, did you not pay attention at all to me? I never saw you looking over here or looking at me. Although, I can’t imagine after all these years of our windows being open, that you didn’t observe at least something.

Did you see my mom visiting me all the time? Did you see us laughing, and dancing, and walking around in our underwear? Was that annoying to you? Or did you find it funny? You didn’t strike me as the humorous type. You seemed like the type who would be a bit annoyed and flabbergasted at my shenanigans. But, I don’t know for sure. I think probably after five years, you just got used to it and ignored me.

Did you see me do karaoke with my friends? And dance around my living room with my cats? Or all of the weird yoga/Zumba/aerobic exercises I did in my apartment? I definitely wasn’t as consistent as you, by any stretch of the imagination. I go through phases with exercise. As I am sure you know.

Did you see my gentleman callers in this apartment? They were few and far between for my tastes, but maybe for you it seemed like a lot. Did you see my fall in love with one of them? Did you notice when he stopped coming over? Did you see me cry? Constantly?

I know I did some things with those windows open sometimes that may have been a bit shocking for you. But I think it was after your bedtime. There are so many windows, and there isn’t always time to close them when you are in the moment. Of course, if it was actually my dad living across the street, I would have definitely closed them. But you were just an old man whom I never met, or spoke to, or learned your name. Hopefully, it was entertaining for you, and not upsetting. Or at the very least, you were ambivalent towards it all. I am sorry if you were ever offended by me though.

I have been through so much in my apartment in these past few years. So many ups and downs. Was your life as tumultuous during your time across the street from me? Somehow, I don’t think it was.

I don’t know how long you have been gone, but I don’t think it could have been more than a few days. I don’t know for sure that you died, but it seems the most likely explanation. Where you lived, is usually the final place people live. People don’t usually move at your age. And there are ambulances coming and going from your building regularly. I am sure I heard the one that was for you. I just didn’t know it at the time. I was probably annoyed by its sirens. But, if I had known it was for you, I wouldn’t have been.

I didn’t see it happen. I didn’t see you leave. I didn’t even notice them moving the furniture out of your place. The last time I remember looking over there, everything was normal. It wasn’t that long ago. Today, I saw two strangers painting your apartment, and throwing food in the fridge away. Your apartment was empty. And you were not there.

I knew that you brought me comfort. But I didn’t know how much until today. These unspoken relationships we have with neighbors we have never even met are their own little unusual bonds. We knew so much about each other’s lives. Yet, so little. It was comforting to me, to be able to look across the way and see you doing the same things day after day. Never faltering. Never changing. Any other year, under any other circumstances, I would have been sad, but not this sad. This year has no stability. No promises. No hope. I can barely leave to see anyone. You were the one person I could always see. I didn’t realize how comforting that was. I always knew it felt like having my dad across the street. But, now that my dad is sick with cancer, and we are all in quarantine, it is hitting me a lot harder that you are gone.

I don’t think this would have been as hard otherwise. But, who knows? I am a sensitive emotional soul. All I know, is that I am really going to miss having you across the street. And I hope that you were peaceful. And I hope you got something positive from living across the street from me, too.

From,

The Girl Across the Street

***Originally written in Summer 2020