A house is not a home

One of my neighbors across the street has moved out. Her house has been for sale for months, but from the looks of it, nobody new has moved in. It’s been sitting empty for a couple of weeks now, looking a little lonely.

I never got to know this neighbor very well; we only spoke a few times. She was far from social, closing herself up inside her house, keeping the blinds and shades drawn tight.

This is what I knew about her: She looked to be in her fifties, and she was plain and doughy-looking. It was rumored that she had been married to a doctor, who had divorced her for another woman. The house she used to live in was a big Victorian that was across the street from a charming little park where the City Band plays concerts outside during the summer. The story was that she had gotten a raw deal in the divorce; not only had she lost her husband and her beautiful house, but she hadn’t gotten much money in the settlement. She moved in six or seven years ago. The family that sold her the house had two daughters, big blond girls who did cheerleading routines in the front yard. The parents were both teachers, and they bought a bigger house in the school district where they taught.

The first thing she did was put in a tall picket fence with rose arbors and painted everything a pale pink. She tore up the front yard and put in a huge flower garden, full of roses and hollyhocks, daffodils and peonies (which she pronounced “pea-YO-nees”). Then she retreated inside, leaving the garden to become overgrown and tangled. From what I could tell, she never opened a window or even pulled up a window blind, but she left lights on all night. She had this nasty-looking cat (named “Miss Kitty”) who she would let out to wander the neighborhood, and in concession to the cat, she cut a square out of her front blinds so Miss Kitty could look out on the world.

I pictured her sitting like Miss Havisham in her house, hidden behind her roses and walls, smoking and brooding about her life. She asked me once about finding a job. She said her money was running out, but her only skill was an outdated beautician’s license. I suggested she go out to the local technical college to take some classes, but I don’t know what she ended up doing, if anything.

This winter, the house went up for sale. Occasionally, people would come and appear to move things out of the house, but the neighbor still lived there. Then, once the snow melted, workers came and tore out the fence and the arbor, pulled out the dead evergreens, but the flowers are still there. The window blinds are all pulled up, but nobody’s home.

She finally moved out, totally, and I find myself wondering where she’s gone. Did she run out of money? Move in with her kids? Did she meet the love of her life and move to Mexico? I think she would be a fascinating character in the novel I’m never going to write.

A royal visit

Princess Surfer Girl paid a visit to the library last week. It's always nice when royalty makes time to mingle with the commoners.

Spring flowers