The Attic Suite...

There is a house across the lane from my apartment building that is split into suites.

The back of this house can be seen from my bedroom window.

A new person moved into the attic suite last summer and I watched her settle in from my bed.

She put up twinkle lights and painted the walls white and hung plants on macrame hangers and I know without seeing any more that she has amazing taste and I am green with envy because I have always wanted to live in an attic suite with slanted walls.

Or a tower.

I might be a completely different person if I lived in a tower.

I wish I could leave my generic (but fabulously decorated) 1950's basic one (tiny) bedroom apartment and move into the attic or tower of an old house.

What is that called? Tudor style? You know the big heritage homes with the bay window tower on one side that goes from main floor to attic.

My hood has a lot of those homes but if they don't have "heritage status" they are being torn down for condos and it makes me sad.

It's very "Rapunzel Rapunzel let down your hair" and I love how romantic it is.

I adore small spaces.

I feel more at home in wee little suites than I do with lots of square footage. It's weird I know because most people crave more space.

I always crave less.

She has a romeo and juliet balcony with a chair and table and I see her out there smoking and having wine while she scrolls her phone.

Is she pinning?

Watching stories on the Gram?

Reading the news?

It's what I am doing as I scroll my phone in bed.

I wonder what she is thinking and how she ended up there.

She is me and I am her and I want to play telephone with tin cans and a string and be best friends and have secrets and crush on boys and girls and share clothes.

I don't know anything about her.

But I talk to her all the time and she must glance over here like I do over there and I wonder if she talks to me too.

She brought her chair and table in for the winter and now leans out her window to smoke.

She moved the big fern somewhere I can't see because it was cold here this year and ferns don't like cold.

I hope she moves it back as the weather warms up.

I want to know her story.

I bought a neon flamingo lamp and put it on the windowsill in my bedroom to add a little fun light to the dark Vancouver winters.

I wonder if she knows I did that for her.

For us.

Because we are friends who don't know each other yet, and probably never will, but we are friends nonetheless.

Live wild. Stay gold.

Thanks for hanging out with me.