It can be more entertaining than television. More suspenseful than the best cinematic drama. With the slightest peek between blinds, from the hidden shadows of a house.
They argue, words escalating, until a door slams. I hope they’re alright. Another couple embrace on the front stoop when the wife returns home. How long had she been gone? An older mother and daughter make their daily trek down the street, on with their journey until the faintest dot is out of my line of sight. Where are they going? What are they getting? Kids bicycle past. Men working on their cars. The woman next door tends to her garden. Didn’t she just wear that shirt yesterday? Like I’m really one to judge.
I watch. I wonder.
I wonder about their day. When they wake up. The breakfast they have. The work they go to. Each step they take. Whether wherever it’s lead has guided them to a place of happy, and can I have the directions if so. I wonder about the state of their living room, and how much care they take. A scrub the baseboard type of clean or just comfortable. Does it matter? There is no cookie cutter here. We live so close, yet we’re all so distant.
Do they wonder about me, too? What do they see when I don’t think anyone is looking?
I am a nosy neighbor.