My neighbor lives two doors down from me — a retiree who is of that group of lifetime dedicated employees at the U.S. Postal Service. The home on the corner of theirs is the go-to place for everything happening in our neighborhood. If the fire rescue or ambulance, or a squad of police cars screamed by, it is sure that you will be able to get the scoop by checking in and saying hello.
It is the routine that my phone will receive texts throughout the day, and meaningless chat is carried on between us, whether it is blowing off steam over a political scene we had to change television channels or the fact that the neighbors stayed up past 9 o’clock; at least their den lights were left turned on way too late. I am sure to get updates from what the local city council is planning, not that we have much political power to do anything about it, but in our texts, we solve a lot of issues if only we could get those council members and politicians at large to listen.
I said good nite yesterday, and this morning I got a phone call from the neighbor’s cell number. But, it wasn’t my neighbor. It was the neighbor’s sister. They were telling me that my texting pal and the person who I liked to solve the latest world crisis with, had left in the night — doing so in their sleep. They didn’t call, text or write, not even a wave. They are just gone. I looked and made sure I saved the text messages between us because I know my day will be without one of the pieces that I took for granted of always being there.