It’s 19:15 on Friday evening and I sit in my quiet apartment safely shielded from the blizzard that has blanketed my city. The white out has cleared and the snowflakes are now simple decoration falling to their respective places in the winter wonderland. Truth told, I probably could brave it to meet friends for dinner, drinks but I simply cannot seem to muster the courage – rather, the will- to have my toes freezing again.
Breaking from writing to grab yet another clementine – I cannot get enough!- I notice my trusty neighbor’s lights are also on. The apartment is directly across the way and as the kitchen matches my living room and the living room my bedroom I haven’t been able to help but notice the similitude of our routines in recent months. My lights are the first to beckon hello in the morning but I am always greeted as I return home from work. Nighttime is mutually quiet, filled with hours of opportunity for our lamps to catch up on the day and then bid goodnight with a “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And so once again, amidst the questions of alternative plans that always circle during a Friday night at home, I see lights aglow and in the most indescribable sense, I am comforted by routine and kinship. As silence replaces bustle and nights out have given way to reading and leftovers, I know I am not alone. I feel I have a friend, and my Friday night spent hibernating from the cold is no longer so lonely.