My  next-door neighbor is moving out of her house to an assisted living facility. She has lived in her house for 45 years and we have been next-door neighbors for the last 16 of those years. When I moved in next to her on a bright April day, I had a dog named Abe and she had a cat named Foxy.  Over the years , both Abe and Foxy got their wings, and now she has another cat named Peekaboo and I a dog named Ben.   As it does everywhere, life has brought many changes.  But there are two things about us as neighbors that have never changed.

When I get up in the morning and look through the window over to her living room I will see her reading the morning paper. Every single day. And she reads it  cover to cover, too. When I see her sitting there I know the day has begun.  It's just kind of a ritual I have.

Then around sunset,  I can stand in the exact same place and look into her living room and she will be reading the rest of the paper after a day of playing bridge, tending her geraniums on the porch or puttering in the garden.  She always seems to know I'm standing at the window in the evening, and so she looks up from the paper and  waves a jaunty New England wave.  She hails from Maine. Then I turn on the night-light in my sunroom, and officially the day is drawing to a close.

Yesterday I saw her standing at the window.  She was sorting through knick knacks and other treasures.  What to take. What to leave behind or give away before she moves off the hill to her new place. I watched her for a bit but it made me too sad, especially when she removed the white ceramic cat that has sat in her window for as long as I can remember, a cat I had begun to think of as our "guard cat," standing watch between our houses.  I hope the cat found its way into the "take" pile.

I know after she moves I will still wake up each day and walk to the window.  She won't be there on her couch. But through the window of my memory, I will always see her reading the paper in the morning sun.  I will always wave good night to her and see her waving back to me in her jaunty New England way.   And our guard cat will ever be in the window, standing watch between our houses, no matter how far apart we live.