I don’t know what you remember about me, I don’t know if you remember me, You don’t have any reason to remember me, we never talked, you never even knew my name. I didn’t even know your names but sometimes I would watch you through my window like a silent movie.
You always seemed like a nice family, I never saw you and your husband fight in all the years you lived there which might mean nothing to you but it meant something to me. You always seemed like you moved so fast, in the car, out of the car. I can still picture your grey S.U.V., in my mind the trunks always opened and it’s filled with soccer ball, baked goods, and school projects. All we ever have in my car is groceries.
To be honest you always seemed like a picture perfect family to me, but you picked up for Florida in a non-picture perfect way. I know you won’t read this but I still feel obliged to ask you how you’ve been. How’s Florida? How are the kids, and the husband, and whatever you do for work? A gay Asian couple moved in next door. Sometimes I watch them slam the screen door on their way out to their little electric car. They’re no in their driveway as much as you were though, so I guess I miss you.