Upstairs, I can hear my neighbors’ laughter ringing out, back and forth like dueling violins in the early evening. It sounds like a tickle attack perhaps, or an inside joke shared between two kindred spirits. Open, honest, at ease. They are two of my best friends, and in my opinion, set an example for what love should look like. They are best friends. He proposed to her over Christmas, the outside world diamond hard and frozen white. This summer, when the city comes alive, we will all celebrate together – the joining of two souls in a whirlwind of joy and laughter.
Life here can be like that – a whirlwind. These past few months have certainly felt like one. A dizzy, spectacular whirlwind of laughter, love, and newness.
Outside, cars drive down North Avenue. I almost do not even notice them anymore; the humm and rumble of their engines fades into the city like the buzz of bugs in a jungle or coyote songs in the country. Occasionally a straight pipe cuts through the air, harsher than normal, and I wonder why on earth people still do that. I do not think the sound of a straight piped Honda has ever helped a man get laid. I could be wrong, but I would be willing to put money on it.
My furnace kicks on, battling the cold, late January air. Something cracks rhythmically in my ceiling when it does, which is slightly alarming.