Let MeTell You About My Neighbour

Reposted after I removed the original entry. I feel this was done in error. This is my story. I will not censor it for anyone, least of all myself.

He stares me down when I leave my house. He watches me from his window. Walking my dogs? Not without his supervision. Is that blade of grass I mowed on my side of the line? Better be careful. Surveillance cameras surveille my every move, back yard and front. Electric eyes, to watch me when he isn't home, click on with every motion sensed. 

Every moment of every day. 

Every time I hang my clothes to dry. Every time I water my flowers. Every time I come home from work. When Husband leaves, he knows. When friends leave for their own safe houses, he knows. 

When I am here alone. He knows.

We've ignored. We've asked for help. We've followed the real rules and been careful to follow his. We cling to each other tightly, Husband and I, and try to laugh real laughter and smile real smiles. But watching changes the thing being watched. Now Husband and I watch each other, for the changes in our eyes. Who must be the strong one today? Is it my turn? Is it Husband's? 

I am so tired. Can Husband see that I am tired? I hope not. Today is my day to be strong.

Can he see that I am tired?

Probably.

He sees everything.

“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”

                                        ― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life