Saturday, August 25, 2012
Morning View From My Balcony
It's a beautiful day in Cleveland and I've traded in my glass of wine from last night for a cup of coffee. Surrounded by my flowering potted plants and tucked neatly behind the spreading branches of the maple tree growing right beside my apartment, I gaze out across the complex once again.
I'm delighted to see that the wayward rabbit has returned to the ground cover below my Ukranian neighbors balcony and there she is again in her white robe and slippers. As she showers him with bread crumbs she actually scolds him, "You bad boy. Where you been?". I'm amazed to see the rabbit hop forward toward the sound of her voice and the gifts of food. I watch and chuckle to myself over life's smallest pleasures.
I hear lots of noise in the hallway and I'm guessing that the last of Tilly's helpful relatives are working early this morning to clean her apartment, getting it ready for the managers inspection. One would think that after 30 years she will certainly be getting her security deposit back. Soon they will be painting the walls, installing new carpet and probably modernizing the suite a bit. I can't help but wonder who my new neighbor will be.
Friday, August 24, 2012
View From My Balcony
Tilly moved today. She lives across the hall from me in this "Adults Only" apartment complex. Tilly is 85 years young and her 4'10" frame does pretty well for having survived a recent bout of cancer and crippling osteoporosis. I take her garbage out since she can't manage the stairs anymore. In fact that's why she's moving. Social Services suggested, well, actually they insisted that she move to the Parma Park East complex which has elevators since she can no longer safely navigate the stairs. I see her in the hallway sometimes on her way down to get her mail and I call out, "Tilly Let me get your mail for you today." To which she replies, "No thanks I need to do the stairs." And so I stand guard on the 3rd floor watching her make her way precariously downstairs, praying she doesn't fall. And I watch until she makes her way back safely to her apartment. She told me last week that she has lived in this one bedroom apartment of hers for 30 years. I was blown away. Who lives in a one bedroom apartment for 30 years? Apparently people like Tilly do. Until today.
I watched her niece walk her across the parking lot tonight on their way to her new apartment one block away. I wanted to shout out to her, "Goodbye Tilly. I'll miss you." but I knew we'd already said our goodbyes and that she was having a hard enough time making the move to her new apartment complete with elevators. I am going to miss her so much.
And so I sit on my balcony watching the moon rise on our little Peyton place. I see the Ukranian woman across the yard come out onto her balcony in her white night robe and slippers. She peers down to the thick growth of ground cover beneath her and I know she is searching for the rabbit which she has adopted. She lives alone and throws breadcrumbs down to her little friend who is completely unaware of her devotion. And who knew rabbits ate breadcrumbs. I watch as every few minutes she approaches her balcony railing, leans over and looks for her little friend. I want to tell her that I saw the rabbit an hour ago leave the ground cover and head to the Eastern corner of the complex. I want her to know that I know how much that silly creature means to her. I want that damned rabbit to appear from around the corner of the building and allow her one last glimpse of her imagined friend before she goes to bed alone tonight.
And then I notice the couple across from me as they appear on their balcony. They are fighting again. I can tell by their body language. They aren't married because I saw her the other day throwing rocks up at his balcony trying to get his attention to let her in. Yes, I see all of this and more from my 3rd floor apartment and I grieve for the lonely, the retired, and the poor, who live here.
In the gazebo bellow me are three single women chatting comfortably together. An adult PJ party of sorts. I want to join them, because like them, I'm alone too in this adult complex of displaced seniors. But I'm too tired to make the effort so I simply wave and smile at them from a safe distance..
Oh and then there's Ronnie from down the hall. I was eating my venison roast dinner when he exited the building. He looked up at my balcony and waved and asked what I was eating. I told him it was venison and he seemed to slump just a bit. He looked up then and smiled and said, "Oh, I was hoping you might join me for dinner at the restaurant across the street." I was completely taken aback by his sweet offer. He's a black man who, I thought, had a regular girlfriend. Honestly, I don't need the drama, so I simply smiled down at him and replied, "Thanks but I've already eaten."
Life. So simple and yet so complicated. Our independence as seniors carries a huge price. It means we are alone when we go to bed at night. But we are each grateful to be alone in our own apartments rather than a nursing home or assisted care facility. I see all this from my 3rd floor balcony and I marvel at the complexity of it all.
I watched her niece walk her across the parking lot tonight on their way to her new apartment one block away. I wanted to shout out to her, "Goodbye Tilly. I'll miss you." but I knew we'd already said our goodbyes and that she was having a hard enough time making the move to her new apartment complete with elevators. I am going to miss her so much.
And so I sit on my balcony watching the moon rise on our little Peyton place. I see the Ukranian woman across the yard come out onto her balcony in her white night robe and slippers. She peers down to the thick growth of ground cover beneath her and I know she is searching for the rabbit which she has adopted. She lives alone and throws breadcrumbs down to her little friend who is completely unaware of her devotion. And who knew rabbits ate breadcrumbs. I watch as every few minutes she approaches her balcony railing, leans over and looks for her little friend. I want to tell her that I saw the rabbit an hour ago leave the ground cover and head to the Eastern corner of the complex. I want her to know that I know how much that silly creature means to her. I want that damned rabbit to appear from around the corner of the building and allow her one last glimpse of her imagined friend before she goes to bed alone tonight.
And then I notice the couple across from me as they appear on their balcony. They are fighting again. I can tell by their body language. They aren't married because I saw her the other day throwing rocks up at his balcony trying to get his attention to let her in. Yes, I see all of this and more from my 3rd floor apartment and I grieve for the lonely, the retired, and the poor, who live here.
In the gazebo bellow me are three single women chatting comfortably together. An adult PJ party of sorts. I want to join them, because like them, I'm alone too in this adult complex of displaced seniors. But I'm too tired to make the effort so I simply wave and smile at them from a safe distance..
Oh and then there's Ronnie from down the hall. I was eating my venison roast dinner when he exited the building. He looked up at my balcony and waved and asked what I was eating. I told him it was venison and he seemed to slump just a bit. He looked up then and smiled and said, "Oh, I was hoping you might join me for dinner at the restaurant across the street." I was completely taken aback by his sweet offer. He's a black man who, I thought, had a regular girlfriend. Honestly, I don't need the drama, so I simply smiled down at him and replied, "Thanks but I've already eaten."
Life. So simple and yet so complicated. Our independence as seniors carries a huge price. It means we are alone when we go to bed at night. But we are each grateful to be alone in our own apartments rather than a nursing home or assisted care facility. I see all this from my 3rd floor balcony and I marvel at the complexity of it all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
