Aunt Sophie
The apartment building next to our house, was renovated.
Over a period of time, everyone were given new homes. The police came around a few times to speak to the teenagers who found the empty building attractive for skating on the roof, smoking and whatever else. The road was blocked off. Cranes were constructed; heavy duty trucks maneuvered into the narrow road; tempory buildings sprung up; heaps of bricks and sand were dumped. For about three years after that, heavy trucks woke us long before the alarm clock in the mornings, drilling and loud music were daily entertainment and dust rained on us. Our cul-de-sac was invaded.
Then after everything was done, the painters left, the helmeted inspectors drove off in their expensive cars and grass was planted. Silence felt warm as the sun!
And then Aunt Sophie and her neighbours arrived in cars loaded with possessions. Furniture removal trucks stretched out their metal arms to stuff washing machines and sofas in gaping holes of doors and windows. As we watched the exodus, we now saw the invading of the promised land of brand new apartments.
Our lives will never be the same again.
New to the renovated homes, are little balconies on our side of the building – big enough for a little table, two chairs, beach size umbrella because it is the sunny side, some potted plants and a neighbour looking down onto our house with a great view of our back yard and the front, all of it!
And this is where we saw her, on the fifth story, leaning over the balcony, smoking and just looking… ‘Aunt Sophie’. We see her when I have tea in the sun, weed the garden, put the washing out, feed the birds, mow the lawn. Every day Aunt Sophie.
