Ever since I moved to this house with my family, the neighbour in front was always the same. Soon enough I taught my kids to be kind to him. Putting some blankets at his doorstep, whenever there were lights on inside I would cook some soup and put it inside a hermetic container, when we understood he had a cat we would put cat food for her, whenever I would bake cookies some were going to him, whenever I would crochet something for Christmas I would make him a small scarf.
I don't know if he ever knew it was me, we were all looking for miracles in those times, a warm helping hand could be from any hopeful soul... But even if he didn't know, I just felt good in helping. After all, he always walked home late, with the same suit a bit old and warned out, or it seemed like it in the night. When his lights were on, his house looked empty, the dinning room at least, his kitchen had very few things, specially inside his fridge. We never saw him leaving in the morning and we did got up early, but by 7 am, he was already gone. His behaviour seemed like a man walking on the streets... Oh dear. How do I put this? A man that asks for money, without a proper life or job.
I always thought that he felt trapped in that house, maybe something was holding him there, like a loved one that once lived there, or he was living there because his family shut him out. I always imagined all sort of things. Maybe he was lonely and only had his cat, maybe he was depressed and he felt better around people on the street.
Some times I would get worried, whenever he wouldn't come home for several nights. He never spent more then 3 months out, but by the second week, my heart was in my hands, racing... Thinking that he might have not made it the night, the fear of death lingered in the streets. His cat must have known that since she always came scratching on my door, asking for food, or just laying near my fireplace. I would take her in for all the nights he was out, she was always welcomed, the kids loved her and she was like an old friend already.
I don't think I am noisy, but my life at home started when I arrived after work, a few hours before he would come back home. Our street always had a weird lamp that flickered and stayed on or off, the neighbourhood didn't complain, there were worst things to complain about. So whenever he turned on the lights of his place, I would notice. I always thought, good neighbours take care of each other and that's what I still say to myself today. Now that I am retired, widowed, the kids had moved to their respective homes and only come back to visit at the weekends with my grandkids. I keep myself busy with some of my crochet, a few walks, cooking some cakes for locals to buy, a slower life, a retired life. My cat-man neighbour was old too, but he was still alive, so I kept an eye on him, doing the same as I always did. My kids would ask about him, my grandkids continued the tradition, I felt good to help and that passed on to them too.
One day, when I came home from the market, I opened the door of my house and there was an envelope on the floor, likely slid under my door. Gladly my father was always hard on me to learn how to read. The letter said:
"Hello lovely neighbour,
I'm the man from the house in front. I've been wanting to reach out for years, I never had the courage to introduce myself, I always thought that by doing so I would make my lovely neighbour mad at me. I'm not an hopeless man, I am very capable, but I always accepted your kindness with a grateful heart.
I know you will be worried about my arrival, the next time I'll be gone, I would like to inform that I'll be out for a full year. But before that, could we share a meal together? I would like to introduce myself properly and ask one more favour from your generosity.
If you so kindly accept the invitation to join me for dinner, please be at my door any time after 7pm, tomorrow 2nd of October 1943."
That was a very lovely letter, I was very relieved that he wasn't in trouble, he never was. I was most happy to meet my neighbour, I've met all of my neighbours before. We would share food and spices, go on vacations together, we were all a very close neighbourhood. Everyone always warned me to stay away from this lonely neighbour just because no one could ever see him. I wanted to help, help doesn't need a face. Specially not in the times we were living, so I did. And now at last I was going to meet him.
The time had come, I knocked on his door for the first time in decades, for a long time nothing made me feel so excited as when I felt as a kid with surprises, my heart was racing, I was both giggly and shaky. He opened door and the cat greeted me first. I picked her up and petted her as we introduced each other. He seemed taller then the hunched man I always saw coming home, he had the same wrinkled face as me and he was kind. He invited me in with a welcoming smell of dinner. My nerves cleared soon after, it seemed that we have always known each other, like this... home visits of each other.
It was a lovely time, he explained me that he was a "wanderer", he would go from town to town, country to country, to teach some big books to people in need, to fix a pipe or two, or a roof, or anything that could need fixing. In exchange he would have a roof over his head and food. Hopefully waking up to the next morning. He also explained me, that he was offered work in our town library as a teacher and librarian with a book deal to tell his stories across the world. Many people would like to know if our living hell was only here or everywhere. He hasn't accepted yet, "I am terrified of being in this home alone for too long... And I feel like I'm still needed, I just don't know if I can keep this pacing. I'm getting tired and old. At some point I have to accept the lonely life I have chosen" he said to me.
It was a long conversation, no wonder he was a teacher, he knew how to pick his words and make an interesting conversation. However, his request was very simple and easy "Could you watch over my old lady? She never travelled with me and now she is quite old to come with me. I never worried, since she had you, but she is leaving, I can feel it. If you could... I would be most grateful! I 'll be out for a whole year, I'm going to visit a friend overseas and he needs help renewing his house" I accepted warmly, the same way I always opened my door or my window to her.
A year had passed, it was strange not seeing my neighbour, but at last the knock on my door came. He was back. He had a lot of moments to talk about and finally he took the job at the library. My neighbour was back, but in a different way, now I gained a friend. I think he always was some sort of a friend to me. I always cared like he was.
Every day now, we take our morning coffee together, the cat stays with me or with him, depending where she falls asleep and the dinner is with each others company too. The lonely house he was so afraid of, was now filled with letters from his students.
The 3 of us were leaving, but we were living in a new world, the clock was draining out and it wasn't going to be turned again for us.