Neighbors at Night
March 24, 2011 § Leave a comment
Tonight, though, my landlords’ place was fully lit, the shades up. I could see the painter, Kes, at his dining room table, reading. I didn’t see Jerry. I always feel happy when they’re here (they were hardly here all winter), though during the day they play NPR too loud, and they have many screaming fights. Really, I don’t know any couple anymore that doesn’t fight. It seems to be the way of it.
To be alive is the thing. To be around human life, even if it’s downstairs in another house, is a party all in itself. Lamplight from a neighbor who knows you exist is a hootennany.
When I was little, I loved to lie in bed and fall asleep to the sounds of my parents playing cards with their friends: the thrum of the shuffle, the ting of the bridge mix against the bowl, the quiet of grownups thinking.