Better Late Than.....
Last Thursday evening my upstairs neighbor, Kerry, a jolly bloke from Australia and I finally chatted over a brew. Only took 2 years and change. I moved to my current spot in July of 2007, immediately meeting him and his girlfriend. He sold me a couch bed, on which I slept for the first month. We had brief chats in the driveway, usually while he was very meticulously cleaning his motorcycle. Other times when the UPS guy left a package in front of my door instead of his, I would bring it up and we would talk about things.
Things? Surface stuff: our landlord, the weather, the neighbors, our jobs. Kerry's a yacht captain who has had assignments all over the world. Sometimes, he would be gone for as long as six months a stretch. He would fill me in on what to do in Sardinia, should I ever find myself there. He spoke of his shipmates, not all of whom were cooperative. I learned that he and Jen once lived in my apartment, originally much smaller. Our convos never longer than 20 minutes or so. "We need to have a beer, mate," he said more than once. I agreed, continually amused by all the exotic bottles I would see in the recycling bin. Ales of which I had never heard. I don't drink as much liquid bread as I once did, but I do enjoy one here and there (admittedly, more "here" of late).
When we returned from our Alaskan cruise in May, I brought him back a craft brew from the 50th state. The other night, he finally popped it and he and I sat in the driveway and we talked about Big Things. Life, faith (to an extent), as well as neighborhood intrigue. I say better late than...because Kerry and Jen are moving away. They have just closed on a house not far from here, but soon we will no longer hear their footsteps through the ceiling or on the outside staircase. No more motorcycle rumbles. Also, no more of the cries of an infant.
Yes, they had a baby on 7/23. This figured largely in our chat that night, too. Kerry spoke of his new role, this new chapter in his life. His face was calm, his voice even. He looked positively peacful. Questions were asked about a newborn hearing screening. This lead to a discussion of healthcare. It was just getting detailed when the cries of the boy were suddenly quite audible. Within seconds, our laid back chat was done. Dad quickly scooped up the bottles and his dead cigar and bid me a good night. "That's my son," he smiled and hurried up the stairs. I felt very warm and happy at that moment. It was like watching something transform-a caterpillar to a butterfly, perhaps. The overdue bonding session became something more, ended on such a perfect note. Tend to your son, mate. Godspeed.
Things? Surface stuff: our landlord, the weather, the neighbors, our jobs. Kerry's a yacht captain who has had assignments all over the world. Sometimes, he would be gone for as long as six months a stretch. He would fill me in on what to do in Sardinia, should I ever find myself there. He spoke of his shipmates, not all of whom were cooperative. I learned that he and Jen once lived in my apartment, originally much smaller. Our convos never longer than 20 minutes or so. "We need to have a beer, mate," he said more than once. I agreed, continually amused by all the exotic bottles I would see in the recycling bin. Ales of which I had never heard. I don't drink as much liquid bread as I once did, but I do enjoy one here and there (admittedly, more "here" of late).
When we returned from our Alaskan cruise in May, I brought him back a craft brew from the 50th state. The other night, he finally popped it and he and I sat in the driveway and we talked about Big Things. Life, faith (to an extent), as well as neighborhood intrigue. I say better late than...because Kerry and Jen are moving away. They have just closed on a house not far from here, but soon we will no longer hear their footsteps through the ceiling or on the outside staircase. No more motorcycle rumbles. Also, no more of the cries of an infant.
Yes, they had a baby on 7/23. This figured largely in our chat that night, too. Kerry spoke of his new role, this new chapter in his life. His face was calm, his voice even. He looked positively peacful. Questions were asked about a newborn hearing screening. This lead to a discussion of healthcare. It was just getting detailed when the cries of the boy were suddenly quite audible. Within seconds, our laid back chat was done. Dad quickly scooped up the bottles and his dead cigar and bid me a good night. "That's my son," he smiled and hurried up the stairs. I felt very warm and happy at that moment. It was like watching something transform-a caterpillar to a butterfly, perhaps. The overdue bonding session became something more, ended on such a perfect note. Tend to your son, mate. Godspeed.
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