Monday, June 28, 2010

My jealousy

The neighbors across the sidewalk I like and who like me back (the kind that watch your cat when you're out of town and who you trust with a key) are cleaning this morning. So cute together they are, he's on a small ladder washing a window from the outside, she's on the other side of the pane pointing out smudges. He always does the heavy lifting.

Wish I was them. They spend nearly all their time together. She has a grown son now living there, a baggy-panted, ciggie smoking 20-something kid always with the ball cap; he's sweet and says hello, asks how I am and smiles. But the two of them are a duo. They take day and weekend and longer trips, packing up the Outback with coolers of sodas and snacks. They always bring me back a small gift, a thank you for watering the plants or bringing in the mail (once a basket of impossibly tiny and so sweet wild blueberries from Maine). In their little townhouse they have two chairs, a his and hers, pointed at the telly. They eat dinner together every night on TV trays there. On weekend mornings when the screen door is open I can peek in and see them sharing breakfast at the small two person table. Two place mats.

Wish I was them.


The mad woman behind the blog said...

WOW. Sounds wonderful and maybe a little boring. I could use some boring.

Jodie Kash said...

Boring, yeah. But that's the lovely thing about it.

Curious, wonder if they see me through the open screen door constantly running off to yoga or dinner or an indy film, clicking past wearing long tunics, leggings and heels and think...

"Wish I/we were her."

The greener grass, you know.

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