A Sense of Being Less Apart
My wonderful friend lives next door to my new apartment.
Right-across-the-driveway, we-can-wave-to-each-other-out-our-windows next door. One of these days, I’ll get two tin cans and a piece of string so we can have a proper connection.
The first morning at my apartment, I walked past her house on my way to my coworking space. Because of the morning light and the angles of her window, I couldn’t see in, but it was comforting to know she was there, or would be at some point. Later that day, my friend texted to say she saw me walking by as she was drinking her first coffee of the day.
The second morning as I walked past her house, I stopped and waved wildly into the shadows of her window. And I saw just enough movement to know she was in there with her first coffee waving back.
It’s been a few mornings now of me waving like I’m directing a plane on the tarmac, and seeing changes in shape and light to know she’s doing the same inside.
It is an excellent way to start the day. My voltage goes to the top of the meter.
And a wave, an uncomplicated motion of the hand and wrist, can do that. I see you, it says. Which is a close cousin to, You belong.
If I hesitate to wave at someone, no matter how faint our connection, I want to remember these mornings. And that this uncomplicated motion does what piles of sophisticated words cannot: Gives someone a sense of being a little less apart.
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