During the COVID shutdown while I was working from home, I launched a friendship with the woman across the yard from me.  Her patio faced my living room, and every day I took solace in the fact that I could count on her to spend time sitting at her small bistro table, book in her lap, cigarette between her fingers, coffee mug awaiting a sip.  She would perform her ritual and I wouldn’t feel alone, even though I was very alone in my apartment/home office.

During the cold winter months, she made no appearances, as if she were hibernating in anticipation of spring.  I found I missed her and looked forward to the return of warm weather, knowing that I would once again feel comforted by her presence as she smoked her cigarette and enjoyed the fresh air.

Did I mention that I’ve never met her, have no idea what her name is, know nothing about her life circumstances, and am slightly concerned that my observation of her might have been just this side of stalking?

Many times I thought about flinging open my sliding glass door and announcing my presence.  “Hello, it’s me.  We’ve gone through the pandemic together.  Thanks for keeping me company.”

But I didn’t.

Yesterday morning, I opened the drapes and was stunned to find that her patio furniture was gone.  It had been there the evening before when we had coffee together, unbeknownst to her.  And now the patio was bare.

I was stunned.  Could she be moving?  I had to know, so I hopped in my car and drove around to the front of her apartment building.

My friend called me a stalker when I told her what I had done.  I told her I was exercising my Nancy Drew muscles.  A detective confirms facts.  If I had followed the moving van when it pulled out of the driveway, that would have been stalker-ish.  Okay… for a very brief, and I mean BRIEF, moment I considered that but quickly realized that was a bridge too far.

But I digress.

The point is that when I rounded the front of her building I saw the moving van and two men, who did not seem burly enough to move the heavy dresser with which they were struggling, in front of her apartment.

So that’s it.  My pandemic partner was moving.

To say I was devastated would be an over-reach.  I mean, really, I didn’t even know her name, and as far as I know she didn’t know I existed.  Though I did for a fearful few moments think she might be moving because the crazy lady across the yard keeps watching her.  God, I hope that’s not what happened!

While my life will go on, I find I am sad that she left.  There was something so comforting about seeing her there.  She confirmed for me every time I felt lonely in the shutdown that I was not alone.

And I never told her.  I never even said “hello.”

There is a very limited chance that she will ever see this, but I feel it must be said.  To the woman across the yard, thank you.  Your mere presence was enough to keep me sane while the world went mad.

I hope your new home is wonderful and that you are happy there.  And I hope there are people in your world who remind you every day that you are part of a community, as you did for me.

Blessings always.

Tell the people who add value to your life that you appreciate them, because you never know when you will wake up one day to find the patio across the yard empty.