Love thy Neighbor.
I took one look at him: young, in a wife beater, baseball hat on backwards, jeans low and dragging. He kicked the dog back into his apartment. "Dude," I said with my palms in the air. "What?! It isn't even that loud," he said, of course aware of why I was knocking. "I'm sorry," I said, "but it's killing me." He snorted and rolled his eyes and shut the door on me without another word.
I could hear it from the street, really from down the street. The whole building heard it. What I really wanted to say was, "and what a stupid little shit you are for blasting Nirvana, Nirvana?! For god's sake." I was so bothered that this kid didn't have enough decency to talk to me like a human being. And closed the door on me like that.
Then I realized, he was treating me like I was his Mom. It was as if I had told him to clean his room. I went into the bathroom and took a good, long look at myself in the mirror. Yup, 40 this year. Then I did a very Mom thing: I cooked up a delicious hot pot of homemade soup. I filled a container with the steaming stuff and hanged it on his door - he had gone out during the cooking - with a napkin and the following note:
Here's some homemade soup; I just boiled it up this evening. It seems appropriate to bring you soup because that's what Moms do - and today you talked to me like I was your Mom. But really I'm just your friendly neighbor, living on the other side of a very thin wall, trying to write a book. Thank you for turning the music down and if in the future I am ever making too much noise for you, I hope you will let me know.
Thank you, Ann 2R
It's really good soup and unless he's a little put off by the witch-like "boiled it up" I hope he will eat it and like it.