Next-Door Strangers

As Canada retreated into self-isolation, I tried to be a good neighbour from a distance

- Karen Stiller

MY KITCHEN WINDOW is above my sink. The washer of dishes and rinser of lettuce can look out and imagine doing other, better things. They can also look into the kitchen window of our neighbour’s house, so close to ours. Our houses are old soldiers in a row, shoulder to shoulder on a worn out Centretown street in downtown Ottawa.

Our kitchen is often lit up like a glaring movie set. But our neighbours, two young men whom I only know in passing, never seem to turn on their light. Sometimes, as I do my dishes or rinse our apples, my eyes adjust. Shadow gives way to shape. Bent head and striped sweater emerge. Then I see them, standing at the sink, washing a dish or a tomato, or dumping the pickle juice from the empty jar. I am startled every time.

On the first Saturday of the COVID19 lockdown, I wanted to be a good neighbour to the two young men across from me—though I didn’t even know their names. The reality of the pandemic seemed to be getting worse by the moment. I worried what the weeks and months ahead might look like. In our family, we have tried to take the idea of “love thy neighbour” seriously, and sometimes that does literally mean the person who lives in the house next door, even if you’ve only met them from the kitchen window.

I made a sign that said, “Have a nice day,” and stuck it on my kitchen window, with a smiley face. A while later that day, they taped up a sign on their window with a message for us.