the boy upstairs

I have to say, it's very comforting to have a good neighbor upstairs. I'm sitting in my cozy apartment, the rain is falling like crazy outside, the cats are curled up together on the blue chair, a candle is burning on the coffee table, my little Christmas tree is glowing on the hearth, and I know my good friend P is equally cozy just upstairs. If we need each other, we're here, but mostly I think we're content simply knowing the other one is nearby. Sure, we visit in the hallway or on the back stairs fairly frequently, or he invites me up for a glass of wine, or I invite him in to catch up on matters of work and romance. But the rest of the time it's just kinda nice knowing he's there; hearing him walking around, or turning on the shower, or chatting with friends. Like he said when I first moved in, he'll be Rhoda to my Mary Tyler Moore, only with a penis. But seriously, we may not have as many capers as a sitcom duo, but we've certainly had an intense year, and I'm grateful to have such a generous, thoughtful, compassionate, and entertaining friend and neighbor.