The neighbor I wish I'd gotten to know

I was lying down for a 45 min nap, just after M and A had gone off to school, and the bell rang. Crap. Was the cleaning lady here super early? Dog walker? No, he doesn't have the house key and the ring was from our apartment door. There was our neighbor, a sweet woman of about 85 or 90, who lost her husband some 5 months ago, saying "Goodbye" and that she is moving to an assisted living facility, where she won't have to cook and clean by herself anymore. She speaks good English, she gave us a pajama present when A was born, she broke her hip and has been walking more and better every day with physical therapists. I think she and her husband lived in Canada and in Singapore for some time. I have always been meaning to invite her for a tea or coffee, to hear her stories, to ask about her life. And then it always seems I'm rushing, to get some work or errands in, and if A is around, she is sick. And I've been scared to pass that on to a woman who doesn't need a cold or chest infection, and for sure not the flu's we've had.

But I feel sad. Like I let her down. There goes my feeling that I am supposed to make others happier. I feel sad that we didn't have a coffee together once a week, just for a little chat. What could I have learned from her? What could I have given?

Sigh. No more napping. The weight of the missed opportunity, especially with a woman who reminds me of my late godmother, is too big. It is a rainy, warm day, and I guess I'll just be sad. And remind myself that I also romanticize other people's hardships. They must be sad, or needing my help, it must be tragic. But that isn't necessarily the case. She has children and grandchildren. She had visitors. I wouldn't have filled in for a lost husband or made her younger.

I just wish it was a bit easier to know the neighbors here. And I'm too good at going along with the custom of not interacting much. This is a case where I wish my American-ness had come forward a bit more.

Hmm.