Member-only story
Where’s my Hello Neighbor?
A meditation on neighbors and the space between us
I got up from the couch, went to my office, and saw my worn beige Under Armour running shoes by the door; they held many memories. I pull on socks, slide in, and make the familiar turn upstairs. The light shifts through the window and lands softly on my face.
Outside, the children play in the sun. I noticed my neighbor across the street.
I open the door. Close it behind me.
“Hi, Neighbor,” I offer.
She looks over, then replies, “I noticed your wife got a haircut. When did that happen?”
It throws me.
I ask how she’s doing, but she seems more interested in what she’s already observed. I told her I hadn’t noticed. She says something about how it looks — says it with curiosity, maybe admiration, but also distance.
And that’s it.
No good morning. No warmth. Just observation.
Just a detail from a life that isn’t hers.
“Sometimes you just have to change things up I guess”, I replied.
I keep walking.
It’s not the first time. My wife has noticed it too — the offhand comments, the sidelong glances, the sense of someone…
