Music and Cats

I am reminded, some days more than others, that the only constant in life is change.

On our street, lined with handsome, substantial houses nearing the century mark, the leaves have flared with color, and are now beginning to fade and fall. I can see the pale, cirrus-streaked sky through the partially exposed limbs of the towering horse chestnuts across the street.

The change in our neighborhood extends beyond this turning of the leaves, this shifting of the light.

When we bought our house, we acquired with it a new next-door neighbor, Paul (whom we call ‘neighbor Paul’ to distinguish him from the other Paul around here), an active 70-year-old widower. Neighbor Paul mowed his lawn every Thursday, no matter the season, and tended to his old-fashioned flowers with unfailing devotion. I’m guessing that his late wife loved those red begonias. He hosted holiday dinners for his children and their families, and monthly poker games for a handful of white-haired, straight-backed men.

A small stroke, the death of a beloved lady friend, and another 7 years of living took their toll on neighbor Paul. His grandchildren took over the yard work. As the stairs to his house became more of a challenge, he ventured out less frequently, planning his day around trips up and down the stairs. He began to use a cane.

During the summer, neighbor Paul, who has lived in the house next door to ours for over 40 years, moved into a new seniors community at the foot of our hill. He was just trying it out, he said, clearly unsure about the move. His house sat, fully furnished yet empty, for three months. When neighbor Paul decided that he was comfortable in his new, stairless apartment, his children and grandchildren arrived at the house to clean, clear and paint. A For Sale sign appeared in the front yard of the house; the Sold sign went up 10 days later. In two weeks, the sale will be final.

Neighbor Paul and his late wife bought the house next door while expecting their fourth child. They were living in a smaller house nearby, and heard that the owner, an elderly widow who had raised her family there, was considering selling the house. Neighbor Paul knocked on the front door one afternoon, and made an offer on the house. He and his family moved in before the baby was born. Our new neighbors, whom I have not yet met, are a couple with three young children. Rumor among the neighbors has it that they may be expecting a fourth.

There are seaons in the life of a house, and the lives of the families that it shelters. The house next door has seen the full turning of the seasons for neighbor Paul’s family, and is waiting, empty and expectant, to welcome the next.

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