You know, I've grown accustomed to my little friends outside on the deck....
Many times over this summer I've walked out onto the deck with my dog and looked up beyond the overhang to the sky, or I've often watched the neighbors smoke their cigarettes and gossip about who knows what. I've watched the planes fly over every night. It was interesting watching the formations sometimes; I'd bet those planes were military, but I don't know for sure.
Contrarily sometimes people would pass below. Since I'm on the second floor, they usually didn't know I saw them. It's a weird feeling sometimes watching people that don't notice you, isn't it?
On the same perspective, the lady who lives below me is an old you know what who complains about the simplest of noises. Walking on eggshells can drive a person crazy after a while, but with enough effort and management, it's possible to remain sane. Solace is nearly impossible though.
Tonight after work, I walked out onto my deck to reflect on not only the day but my time here where I live. We have chapters in our life, and moving to a new place often provides us a conclusion for what just was.
Many of you know that when the time comes to move from an apartment, the landlord must inspect. Mom and I knew this inspection was coming, and my mom had stated several times that we needed to clean thoroughly. I agreed wholeheartedly. Who wants to lose a $350 deposit? ...and so...
Stepping through the door tonight after work, I saw how entirely Mom had worked her butt off sprucing the place up all day. Immaculate. Heck, from the entrance I saw that the microwave had a nice sheen to it, and that thing is primarily plastic. The apartment smelled like a new coat to boot. I couldn't help but smile.
Thanks, Mom.
Something was different however. I almost immediately noticed that the screen door to the deck was open. Not a big deal really at the time. Later that night, I realized why.
When I stepped onto the deck to stare across at my neighbors' potential smoking habits or wait for the usual passers-by, I suddenly became aware that my summer nighttime buddies were absent. I didn't see the snowflake-like uniqueness; I didn't mock the stupid moths that deservedly flew to their own deaths; I didn't get the chance to cause disturbing reverberations by blowing profusely on the webs and watching those small creatures move about confusedly.
All of the spiders and their webs were gone...except one.
I imagined that Mom had dealt with them accordingly earlier that day during chore time, but somehow despite this one's broom-to-the-face rejection, he felt it necessary to rebuild in the moonlight. Though all others were gone, he somehow managed to make his insignificant comeback there on the corner of the porch's overhang. Granted, when I saw it, no insignificance manifested especially when I noticed the spider from his web had a small insect casting a shadow on the wall next to my shoulder. Victory, I suppose.
In a way, I felt a bit of a Fare Thee Well. ...but you're right. It's just a spider who knows nothing more than nothing. Perhaps like you, I'm a human who grants meaning to anything when possible, and tomorrow I must start moving some boxes. I've packed some clothes and many old keepsakes thus far.
My hurdles are imposing for a dude such as I. Believe me, I've got them, especially coming up. I hope that I find the courage of my deck buddy. He overcame a true giant you could say.
Being close to family proves difficult for me, and I'm going to be right in the mist, Dian Fossey style . I've not got the greatest of self-esteems. I'm working on it though. School starts in a week. It's now or never as far as I'm concerned. As so many have said, this is your (reasonable) last chance.
In case you were wondering, the current passers-by are carrying a keg to the apartment beside me. Too bad I'm growing up and don't party anymore. Maybe the spiders at my new residence will be boring and instinct-driven enough to like my occasional company and wooden overhangs. We'll see.