Walking Woman

My Imagined Neighbor

There’s a woman who walks down my street at midday. She’s a bit older than me and wears her hair in a dramatic snow-white bob. She swings her arms and moves at a clip I’d describe as brisk. I write at my front window so most days I see her. I don’t know her name, where she lives, or what she does.

Because I have an overactive imagination, I created a persona and a life for her. She is a biology professor, and she lives in the small white Cape with green shutters in a neighborhood across the busy road at the end of my street. Nancy? Betsy? I settle on Jane.

A few months ago Jane vanished. I imagined her on vacation (Florida? California? New Mexico!) Then, a month ago, she reappeared, walking cautiously, using ski poles for balance. A man- her husband? Boyfriend!- was by her side. Did she have an accident? Elective surgery! I added another chapter to my story.

Over the past weeks, Jane dropped the ski poles and the man. She walked alone, with steadily increasing confidence. I reflected on the power of resilience. We all have challenges. I have given Jane determination, one of my favorite attributes, so of course, she is fighting her way back.

So today, I saw her at the usual time. Looking good, Jane! Glad to see you’ve recovered from your knee replacement surgery, I imagined calling to her, to which she imaginarily responded Jane? Who the hell is Jane? My name is Helen. I fell snowboarding back in January. My wife took over the drug cartel while I recuperated.

In a space where nothing is known, anything’s possible, right? One day I will be outside when she walks by, and we’ll introduce ourselves. But until then, I’m savoring the mystery, and freedom to fill in the blanks.