The Unfamiliar Visitor
At the dawn of the mobile phone era, my husband and I were newlywed, moving into our first home together. The flats were gloriouslayouts that were truly a marvel. We were delighted with everything, except for one thing: the neighbours sharing our landing were awkward sorts. Even though I was young, I held a commanding role at work, accustomed to respect, with a stern bearing. My husband, ever the joker, would even address me by my first and middle name just to make me smile.
One day as I stepped from our door, I passed the new neighbour. She breezed by me without so much as a Good morning or Goodbye! I thought, well, I wont be giving her the courtesy either! I drew myself up tight, ready for an unspoken contest of wills.
Then came the housewarming! We gathered our families and friends to celebrate our new beginning. We laughed and feasted a touch longer than was sensible. Not long after half eleven, a sharp knock sounded. There was the neighbours husband, glowering. Its rather late! he complained. To me! On a Saturday, not even midnight! Cheek of it! He even blamed his wifeShes got a terrible headache and just wants her sleep. I was livid. After that, I refused to acknowledge them, even if we crossed paths in the corridor. My husband still offered them a courteous nod, but I would not budge. Let them learn how to behave among decent people! Stubborn and proud, that was me.
For a stretch, our paths didnt cross at all. Then, one chilly evening, a blizzard howled outside and as we approached our flat, we saw a young woman shivering outside the landings entrance. Her face lit up upon seeing us. Im your neighbours sister, just arrived from far off and waiting for them these past three hours. May I wait here, please? Its bitter in the stairwell! The weather was wild; the wind sawed at the trees. We let her in. I asked officiously, Not from around here, are you? Wheres your luggage, then? She explained shed left it at left luggage, hoping the brother-in-law would collect it next morning. It was impossible to haul through the storm alone.
Inside, I started to wonder aloudIf they left a sister out in such weather, maybe she isnt kin at all. Maybe shes an impostor, and weve let her in ourselves. Distrustful and wary, I was.
As we sat for supper, I couldnt ignore my unease about the stranger on our landing. I peered through the spyhole: there she was, rigid against the cold wall. My husband called me to eat, but my appetite was gone, thoughts for the unfamiliar guest swirling in my mind. He suggested we invite her in for supper. I snapped, Why would we have a stranger at our table? But I did bring her a chair for the corridor. Demanding, I asked, You say youre her sister, but why hasnt she come for you? She replied simply, I wanted to surprise her. Shes about to have a baby and the pregnancy’s been tough. I came to help, to mind the little one at first. Skeptical, I listenedwas my neighbour even pregnant? Id noticed nothing!
Every five minutes I checked through the peephole. The woman waited, quiet and patient. My husband was soon fast asleep but me, I couldnt close my eyes. Every time I tried, her lonely image stood before me. After such a journey, with the weather so cruel, she must be exhausted.
Glancing at the clocknearly midnightI leapt from bed, pulled on my dressing gown, and stormed into the corridor. Right! Thats enoughyoure staying here tonight! She was startled and grateful, protesting shyly, but I wouldnt hear of it. I gave her a clean towel and settled her in the bathroom. Once shed showered, I insisted on feeding her, made up the guest room, and wished her a peaceful restcaring and sincere at last.
I scribbled a note for the neighbours: Your sister is with us. Please dont disturb before 6:00am.
At 8 sharp, the bell rang. Standing there was the neighbours husband, practically glowing. My wife had a baby last nighta boyduring that terrible storm! Do you understand? We have a son! Joy seemed to spill from him, soaking me in its warmth; suddenly their happiness felt like my own. Something wondrous had happened, something brilliant.
Mother and newborn were home soon enough. And my neighbour looked radiant with thanks, grateful for sheltering her little sister on that fateful night.
We often think we truly understand ourselves and those around us. We judge, we take sides, we dig in our heels, even build little wars. But then, in some brief, crystalline moment, the anger melts away. And then you see it: the only way to really feel life is with your heart open. For me, it was the unfamiliar visitor who showed me that truth.
