Anonymous
My upstairs neighbor plays piano. Every night. 9 PM to 10 PM. Classical music. Same routine for eight months.
At first it annoyed me. I work early mornings. Trying to sleep by 10. Walls thin. I could hear every note. Almost complained three times. Almost knocked on his door. Never did. Just got used to it.
Last week the piano stopped. No music. Five days. Nothing. I realized I missed it. Got used to falling asleep to Beethoven or whatever he played. Silence felt wrong...
Sixth day, saw him in the hallway. He looked terrible. I asked if he was okay. He said his mom died. Flew home for the funeral. Just got back yesterday.
"Sorry if the piano bothered you. I won’t play for a while. Don’t really feel like it."
I told him the truth. I’d gotten used to it. Actually missed it. Helped me sleep. He looked surprised.
"Really? I thought you hated it. I always worried I was keeping you up."
"No. It was nice. I’m sorry about your mom."
He nodded. Went into his apartment.
That night, 9 PM, piano again. Different. Slower. Sadder. He played for an hour. I just laid there listening. Knowing he was playing through grief. Only way he knew how to feel something.
When he stopped, I did something I’d never done. Went upstairs. Knocked. He answered. I handed him a note:
"Thank you for playing tonight. Your mom would be proud of the man you are. -Your downstairs neighbor"
Next morning, note under my door.
"Thank you. You’ll never know how much I needed to hear that. Piano was my mom’s. She taught me. Playing makes me feel she’s still here. I’m glad it doesn’t bother you. I’m glad someone’s listening. -David"
Now, when he plays, I don’t think about sleep. I think about David playing his dead mother’s piano. About how close I came to complaining...
Sometimes being a good neighbor isn’t silence. It’s listening. Writing a note that says, "I hear you and it’s okay." That’s what people do. 🤍
I rent out the basement apartment of my house. My tenant, a guy in his twenties named Mark, was usually great. But last month, the rent didn't come. He started avoiding me. Parking down the street. Dashing inside. On the 10th, I knocked on his door. He opened it looking like he hadn't slept in days. "I know," he said, holding up his hands. "I lost my job at the warehouse. I'm packing. I'll be out by Sunday." He looked defeated. "Mark," I said. "I didn't come down here for the rent." I handed him a bag of groceries and a business card. "My brother is a shift manager at the plant across town. They're hiring. Tell him I sent you. You can pay me when you get your first check." He just stood there and cried. A roof over someone's head shouldn't be a weapon.
Anonymous
@jettila I was really hoping that you would win. We don’t know each other but I watch you on FN and you seem so genuine, humble and one HO a chef! I guess you should ask yourself, what’s your end game to compete again? The $, notoriety , ego, or something else? Jet, you are enough ❤️
@WIMegMo The first 6 weeks are usually pretty terrible. Accept sleep deprivation as the norm. The first night you get to sleep through the night ( it will happen) is life changing, in MANY ways. Hang in there momma 💕
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"Watch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habit. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it becomes your destiny." ~ Lao Tzu