THE LANDFILL CHRONICLES
Finding Happiness In All The Wrong Places
My first-floor neighbor moved this past weekend, and I was sad to see her go. She was a sweet older woman, living alone with her two dogs. She had a wonderful Southern drawl, porcelain skin, and gorgeous white hair. We often chatted while running into each other outside. Instead of saying goodbye, she always told me to have a blessed day.
Last year she broke her hip and had been using a wheelchair and walker since then. She had been getting around fine, but the event must have resonated with her family because plans were made for her to move closer to them.
She seemed agitated on moving day. I watched her shake her head in frustration. I didn't know if she was mad at the movers or at this new less independent phase of life. I just know that the last time I saw her she was shaking her head, while her daughter was waiting in the driver's seat of her car, not even noticing her mother's frustration.
Now the apartment is empty. New carpet was put in yesterday, and painting is happening today. It's like she was never there. Apartment complexes tend to be for the less-permanent parts of life, but still it's easy to see just how quickly people can be replaced.
So wherever my former neighbor is, I hope she's having a blessed day. Meanwhile I'll be here inhaling paint fumes from her former apartment while wondering who my new neighbor will be.