Goodbye Penelope Cruz, I miss you
I had to travel a lot recently, something like 6.5 weeks out of the last eight. One day about two weeks ago when I was away from home and meditating I had the thought, “You should take a picture of that picture of X that’s in the lobby of the apartment complex when you get back home.”
The picture that thought referred to was of a woman who works at the apartment complex I live in. She and I have had some good conversations over the last few years, and she’s been a great friend to me. But at least in part because I’ve learned that relationships between men and women can be complicated, we never exchanged phone numbers or email addresses. (Had we met ten years earlier I would have certainly asked her out.)
Getting back to the story, when the thought, “You should take a picture of that picture” came to me I thought, “Wow, that’s kind of pervy. Maybe I’ve been living alone too long.” But then as if in response to that thought, a second thought came to me, “Because you’ll never see her again.”
Because of the pervy part of the initial thought, I dismissed that whole line of thinking. But since I got back to the apartment complex about ten days ago I never have run into X.
Then on Friday morning I found two notes on my apartment door, and then a letter in my mailbox. The first note on the door was from the company that owned the apartment complex. Their note said that the complex had been sold to a new company. I didn’t give it much thought, but wondered what would change with the new owners.
The second note was from the new company, and near the end of the letter they wrote, “Oh by the way, we’ve let the old staff go, and here are the names of the new people working in the front office.” And I mean they let everyone go, from the people working in the front office to the maintenance guys to the woman who cleans the exercise facility. They’re all gone, and of course that includes X.
Later that day I walked up to the front of the complex to check my mail, and on the way I saw that the picture of X in the lobby was also gone. When I checked my mail I found the letter I mentioned earlier. It was from X, saying how much she enjoyed our talks and friendship.
(Note: The woman I refer to as X looks quite a bit like Penelope Cruz, hence the title of this blog post.)