Every morning I drove on this street to see if I would glimpse [The Man in the Window]. I haven’t seen him for over a year, and this bothers me because he had become a familiar face, and I know that he looked forward to seeing me too. The red SUV he owned gave me some solace each time I saw it parked in front of the house. To me, it meant that he was alive and staying in because of winter and then COVID-19. I always thought about going by his door to say hello, but I did not know his house. He lived in what they called row houses. They are homes build together, sharing common walls and similar looks. So, one has to know which door to knock or have an identification mark to differentiate each house. No, I did not know his house number.
Yesterday morning, I slowed down the speed of my car to a mere five miles per hour and noticed that the red SUV was gone. I surveyed the area for any signs of activities on the porch or if the SUV was parked somewhere else, but I saw no clues to my nagging concern. This tension did not sit well in my guts. It was that feeling that something was wrong. Oh my gosh, I started to get nervous. I thought of the worst end of the spectrum. I thought he probably passed away, and they sold the van; yes, I went to the end. I turned the volume of the radio up to drown out the thought and sped away.
This morning the temperature was warmer than the norm. I had my windows rolled down and the music pumping as I sang along with Silk Sonic. I slowly approached the street he lives on, and from a distance, I saw the red SUV parked in its usual spot in front of the house. And there on the porch was a lady sweeping. I was elated. I would finally get some answers. This delay would cause me to get to work late, but who cares? What was ten minutes delay when you could gain and give a lifetime of joy to others? I parked my car and walked to the gate.
“Good morning, ma’am,” I said politely.
“Good morning,” she answered, looking down at me.
“I am looking for an elderly man, [The Man in the Window].”
Before I was able to describe the man or ask any further questions, she said, “He lives next door. Open that gate,” she pointed, “… and go in. He is there. He is home.”
I was happy that he was alive and at home. I grabbed the knob of the gate, but I could not turn it to open.
“It seemed lock, ” I said.
“Push your hand inside and open it from there,” she instructed.
My heart pounded in my chest with excitement. I thought that I would give [The Man in the Window] the best surprise ever. I walked up the stairs and rang the doorbell.
The door opened immediately. A lady stood there dressed as if she was going out. I thought she might have been his sister or an attendant or something.
“Hello,” she greeted.
“Good morning.” I responded.”My name is Rowena, I am looking for [The Man in the Window], is he home?”
“Yes, he is right here.”
And his bald head came into view behind her in the hallway. I was happy to see him. He looked at me with a confusing look. In my mind, I thought he did not remember me. Probably he had onset Alzheimers. I also thought the delayed recognition was because he hadn’t seen me for over a year. And mind you, this was the first time he had seen me out of the car. So, I said, “[Man in the Window], it is Rowena.”
“Rowena,” he uttered, still no acknowledgment of my identity.
This impassiveness was not the reaction I expected from him. After him not seeing me for such a long time and knowing the affection he had exhibited towards me. My fear was beginning to materialize.
Then he said, “Rowena, pull down your mask.”
I did, and instantly his face lit up. “Oh, Rowena! he exclaimed with joy. “It’s you.” Then, he turned to the lady, “A beautiful angel has come to visit me this morning. An angel has come to visit me. Isn’t she beautiful?”
I laughed, she laughed, and he continued with his serenades. I was so happy to see him. He was okay, after all. He told me that he would be coming out when it gets warmer and would see me again real soon – his Beautiful Angel.