Our house isn’t impressive. It’s a tiny row-house, painted yellow, wedged between two other identical red bricked houses. I suppose some would find it charming with it’s fenced in front yard, endowed with butterfly bushes and an array of unidentified flowers. In the back you’ll find a deck and another garden, this one poorly kept. This is where I spend the majority of my time.
When the neighbor from the house on the right died, a young yet expected death, her brother began visiting the house to take care of her dog. His stays became more and more frequent until he was arriving every day after work and staying until late. I watched him unknowingly. I never recognized this fact until more recently. I still don’t know his name.
He’d sit in the grass of the backyard and always brought along a different book. I don’t know why I thought about this as strange. I suppose it was because I didn’t believe he could read so fast. Anyway, the dog would pace around the yard, catching a yellow tennis ball and bringing it back each time. Until one week the retrievals took much too long and the dog could barely lap the yard. And then the dog died too and my neighbor’s brother sat alone in the grass.
He assembled himself there with the same book for a week I doubt he ever read it but he flipped the pages anyway. And then he vanished until the other day, when I woke up to find him mowing the grass he had neglected. Like every other morning before, I melted onto one of our deck’s chairs, still in pajamas.
An hour or so later I realized I had locked myself out. This was the only time my neighbor’s brother spoke to me.
“She kept a spare key,” he said, noticing my struggle with the obviously locked doorknob. “I might be able to find it for you.”
I couldn’t do anything but nod politely as he slipped into her house. Before I knew it, what seemed like seconds later, I was leaning over the fence that divided our matching lawns and he was placing the key into my hand.
“You should keep it,” he said, and I did.
But I wanted so badly to give him something in return, even if it was just a single word or a tiny gesture. Anything just to express my sympathy and my gratitude. Any maybe not even that much.
I hoped, and still do, that our days outside reading together were enough.
how to find peace
Our house isn’t impressive. It’s a tiny row-house, painted yellow, wedged between two other identical red bricked houses. I suppose some would find it charming with it’s fenced in front yard, endowed with butterfly bushes and an array of unidentified flowers. In the back you’ll find a deck and another garden, this one poorly kept. This is where I spend the majority of my time.
When the neighbor from the house on the right died, a young yet expected death, her brother began visiting the house to take care of her dog. His stays became more and more frequent until he was arriving every day after work and staying until late. I watched him unknowingly. I never recognized this fact until more recently. I still don’t know his name.
He’d sit in the grass of the backyard and always brought along a different book. I don’t know why I thought about this as strange. I suppose it was because I didn’t believe he could read so fast. Anyway, the dog would pace around the yard, catching a yellow tennis ball and bringing it back each time. Until one week the retrievals took much too long and the dog could barely lap the yard. And then the dog died too and my neighbor’s brother sat alone in the grass.
He assembled himself there with the same book for a week I doubt he ever read it but he flipped the pages anyway. And then he vanished until the other day, when I woke up to find him mowing the grass he had neglected. Like every other morning before, I melted onto one of our deck’s chairs, still in pajamas.
An hour or so later I realized I had locked myself out. This was the only time my neighbor’s brother spoke to me.
“She kept a spare key,” he said, noticing my struggle with the obviously locked doorknob. “I might be able to find it for you.”
I couldn’t do anything but nod politely as he slipped into her house. Before I knew it, what seemed like seconds later, I was leaning over the fence that divided our matching lawns and he was placing the key into my hand.
“You should keep it,” he said, and I did.
But I wanted so badly to give him something in return, even if it was just a single word or a tiny gesture. Anything just to express my sympathy and my gratitude. Any maybe not even that much.
I hoped, and still do, that our days outside reading together were enough.
When the neighbor from the house on the right died, a young yet expected death, her brother began visiting the house to take care of her dog. His stays became more and more frequent until he was arriving every day after work and staying until late. I watched him unknowingly. I never recognized this fact until more recently. I still don’t know his name.
He’d sit in the grass of the backyard and always brought along a different book. I don’t know why I thought about this as strange. I suppose it was because I didn’t believe he could read so fast. Anyway, the dog would pace around the yard, catching a yellow tennis ball and bringing it back each time. Until one week the retrievals took much too long and the dog could barely lap the yard. And then the dog died too and my neighbor’s brother sat alone in the grass.
He assembled himself there with the same book for a week I doubt he ever read it but he flipped the pages anyway. And then he vanished until the other day, when I woke up to find him mowing the grass he had neglected. Like every other morning before, I melted onto one of our deck’s chairs, still in pajamas.
An hour or so later I realized I had locked myself out. This was the only time my neighbor’s brother spoke to me.
“She kept a spare key,” he said, noticing my struggle with the obviously locked doorknob. “I might be able to find it for you.”
I couldn’t do anything but nod politely as he slipped into her house. Before I knew it, what seemed like seconds later, I was leaning over the fence that divided our matching lawns and he was placing the key into my hand.
“You should keep it,” he said, and I did.
But I wanted so badly to give him something in return, even if it was just a single word or a tiny gesture. Anything just to express my sympathy and my gratitude. Any maybe not even that much.
I hoped, and still do, that our days outside reading together were enough.
First Days of Summer
It has, quite unfortunately, come to my attention that I spend far too much time a.) in bed and b.) being discontent about said situation.
Here's to staying up late, blogging, wine drinking, hot tubbing, designated driver-ing, doing laundry, kissing, pretending to garden, getting a license to legally drive a boat and powdered sugar on waffles.
My 20th birthday is in nine days. I'm thinking a reservation for the Factory of Cheesecake is a necessity. And also a visit to Urban to buy myself a few presents.
Lastly, I have no idea why I am saying any of these things.
Here's to staying up late, blogging, wine drinking, hot tubbing, designated driver-ing, doing laundry, kissing, pretending to garden, getting a license to legally drive a boat and powdered sugar on waffles.
My 20th birthday is in nine days. I'm thinking a reservation for the Factory of Cheesecake is a necessity. And also a visit to Urban to buy myself a few presents.
Lastly, I have no idea why I am saying any of these things.
