Hey Neighbor!

I’m on the ninth floor, sitting quietly on my small terrace. The late summer evening is fading to night, and I can feel the chill in the breeze that is promising fall. It’s been a busy couple of months, but the work has resulted in our organization getting stronger even during these troubled economic times, and I’ve been recognized for the key role I’ve played – new title, new office, and entry into a brand new tax bracket. Tonight is an opportunity to reflect on how far I’ve come as I watch the city lights replace the setting sun’s rays reflecting off the glass of downtown. I’ve taken this evening for myself, coming home and slipping into my favorite jeans and a light sweater, letting my hair fall out of its tightly wound “business bun” and kicking back with a bottle of my favorite white, a wedge of aged cheddar and the iPod playlist that favors mid century jazz looping through the speakers on my terrace.

Not bad for a small town Southern girl, I raise my glass to the sky and smile as the thought crosses my mind. My phone buzzes lightly, glancing at a number I don’t recognize, I turn it off and let myself float away from the cares of the day. The view from my apartment is what sold me on the building. It’s an older complex, but a sweeping view of the river and downtown are worth slightly smaller elevators and an underequipped gym, as far as I’m concerned. I love waving to the other residents when we’re enjoying our decks on weekends and evenings, and have gotten to know many of them as a result of “wave over” invitations to get-togethers and dinners as the last couple of years have passed. “Hey neighbor” and soft voice registers itself and I turn to see Alison just stepping out with a beer to settle in across the way. I raise my c glass and smile in response as she takes a long pull from her bottle. Ali moved in a few months back, and she reminds me a lot of me when I first hit town. We’ve shared some stories and I’ve tried to help her find her way, and she’s reminded me that even though I’ve passed 30, I’m still not “old”, including me in some small parties and excursions on the town with her friends. She’s 25, with raven eyes, dark brown hair and a complexion that hints at her Latina heritage – in other words, the opposite of the red haired, green eyed, fair skinned lass writing this.

“Have you had dinner yet, Ali?” I call over, “Drinking on empty stomach can lead places you never intended” I smile and watch her make a face at me and mouthy the word “Mom” in mock protest.