Generally, I regret not offering to do more. She wasn't that old. She was in her fifties, maybe sixties. But she had had a hip injury. And there were complications. At times during the day, you could hear the machine that would lift her wheel chair up or down the stairs. But it wasn't too loud or annoying or anything.
What was loud or annoying though? My drum kit. I was in my early twenties, and I decided I wanted to learn and play the drums. So I bought a set and practiced in our basement. I bought it with my own money. It would have been quieter to get an electronic one, but I couldn't afford it. So I banged away, and yes, the neighbors on either side could hear it. And feel it.
Eventually, I tried to limit it to like an hour. Around 5 to 6 in the afternoon or something like that. I can't remember specifically. But still, it must have been annoying. The neighbors on the other side had tenants renting their basement. I noticed every time I would practice, they would go out. I didn't put it together until later. They were Filipinos, too nice to complain. One time the owner came and knocked on my window. He said he could hear me, all with a smile and everything. He didn't seem too bothered, but I realize now that he was really trying to complain about it. But just too nice.
Peggy's sister wasn't that nice about it though. The Baldwins. Both were named Peggy, for some reason. Actually Margaret. Which I didn't get. When we first moved and they introduced themselves, she said her sister's name was Margaret, but we could call her Peg. And that was her name also.
Anyways, one night I was practicing with my band and she knocked on the basement door and asked us to practice more quietly. We obliged. And she wasn't hostile or anything. Just direct. And honestly, I appreciated it. At that age, my judgement of situations wasn't always the best. And since no one was complaining, I assumed everything was all right. So it was good to know that they were bothered.
But yeah, I wish now I offered to help more. I only did so one time, and that is because she called. I can't remember exactly now, but I think something had fallen off her clothesline onto the yard. Or was it something with the clothesline itself? But I came over and helped. That was it. We lived there for about five to six years. I always meant to reach out, but was always preoccupied with other things.
And then one day she was dead.
One small thing I would do, every time it snowed, I would clear her steps. There was an old broken down car that was always on her driveway. The idea was that with it parked in front, it would seem like someone was home, to discourage break-ins, I guess. I never cleared out the snow on it. It seemed a bit much. I probably should have taken the time to do so. But at that age, I was just thinking, that car isn't going anywhere.
Her sister Peggy did thank me for clearing the steps but she also asked not to dump snow onto the car. That was when she explained why they had it there on the driveway. After she died, the car also just disappeared one day. And then once in a while I would see a blue Jeep liberty in the space. It was the new owner's. He never introduced himself. He was doing stuff to fix up the place, and it pissed me off because I the smell of paint would seep into our place.
We moved out soon after that. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to the neighborhood friends. Eventually one of them told me he knocked on the basement door and the new tenants opened it. And that was when he found out I had moved.
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