Up on a ladder, high up on a ladder against a house on a
hill, I...
Up on a ladder, high up on a ladder against a house on a
hill, I was hammering shingles, and the tiny old woman who lives nextdoor,
climbed the stairs to her front door and said to me, “Oh, you are working hard.
Don’t you feel afraid up there?”
She is small with a cloud of blonde-white hair all around
her head. She could be eighty. She could be a hundred and eight.
“I try not to think about it,” I said, a big smile on my
face.
“Are you my new neighbor?” she asked.
“No, no,” I said, “just working here.”
“Well,” she said, “you are working hard, and my name is Lily
if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m Nina.”
“Nina!,” she said. “You say your name is Nina?”
“Yes,” I said.
She put her hand over her heart. “I have a sister Nina,” she said.
“Well, it’s Ninotchka, but everyone calls her Nina, because who wants to be
Russian.” She had such warmth in her eyes. “Nina,” she said. “If you need
anything, you come. I am always here. You just come, love,” she said.
And I nearly fell off the ladder for joy.
