The Other Residents
Amy Hill
By Mario Gonzalez-Fuentes, San Antonio, Texas, U.S.
“That’s what we call character, Mario” responded Ann, our realtor, when I pointed out, rather disappointed, the slanted floors that certain rooms displayed. I rolled my eyes internally.
So, I decided not to mention how some doors did not close properly. Somehow, I knew what Ann’s response was going to be. I was even sure Mary, my wife, would join in stereo.
“Yup, this is the house that will make me a homeowner,” I thought to myself, resignedly, as I made my way downstairs to meet Ann and Mary. Halfway down the stairs, I stopped, and, making sure neither of them saw me, I opened my arms and placed them against the wall, in an effort to hug the house. “These walls are going to be ours,” I remember thinking five years ago.
A two-story, foursquare-style house built almost a century ago. The mature landscape around the building surely adds a quaint look. Mountain laurels, loquat trees, live oaks, anacuas. All of them taller than the house itself provide not only a sense of place, of rootedness, but also a playground for squirrels, lizards, cats, cardinals, robins, and my favorites: blue jays.
With so many windows in every room, it’s hard to feel isolated. The outside is let in, all day long.
A few days ago, we heard some bumping coming from our front door. We opened it, only to find two baby blue jays clumsily learning to fly on the footsteps of our front porch. It all made sense. For a week, we’d noticed two adult blue jays picking on a couple of cats that tend to lounge around the house. “They must have a nest nearby,” Mary concluded. As we saw their brief leaps turn into brief flights, I told Mary, “I think they’ll like it here.”
There’s a ray of sun that visits me every afternoon through one of the windows of my office, at home. I discovered it during the first week of the lockdown. It hits my glasses and creates a flickering view of my screen and books. Some people would find it annoying. Not me.
I started waiting for it every day. Like a kid waiting impatiently for the arrival of a loved one. Even on the weekends, I make sure to sit at my desk at 5:30, to be there when it shows up. To greet it. To welcome it home.
It must be the character, I guess.