I've lived in apartments about half my life, counting early married years and (to stretch it a bit) college dorm life. I'm currently on the the ground floor of an H-shaped, three-story apartment complex with about 150 apartments. I know very of the residents and only those near me by name. I wrote about a poem about a current phenomenon where I live. This is the first verse.
When my radio alarm wakes me
the peson above me gets out of bed.
His or her footsteps go into the bathroom
With me. I hear the water running.
We walk into the kitchen together,
Crows announce their morning itinery
As gulls and geese arrive loudly.
I don't know if the person upstairs hears
Or turns on the TV for the news.
I hear only footsteps, never voices.
Many nights we go to bed at the same time.
I've never met him or her -- or is it them?
I go on to say apartment living suits me. I like my own space and freedom of movement although for many other years I lived with people -- my parents, of course and then my husband an kids. I think of living alone as an English garden with cultivated and wild flower and many tiny creatures; into which I sometimes invite visitors.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!