The Balcony Light Across the Street
A light across the street becomes an accidental clock until one quiet evening changes the view.
Photo: Unsplash.
The balcony light across the street switched on every night at 10:40.
It was not bright enough to illuminate the balcony. It only made a yellow rectangle on the wall beside the door. Still, after several months, it became part of the evening: wash the last cup, close the laptop, notice the light, remember that the day had become late.
I never saw who turned it on. Sometimes laundry appeared beneath it. Once there was a small tree decorated with blue paper birds. During a week of heavy rain, three umbrellas stood open in a row like dark flowers.
Then the light stopped appearing.
The first night I assumed I had missed it. The second night I checked the time twice. By the fifth, the opposite balcony had become an oddly blank piece of the building.
A moving truck arrived on Saturday. Two people carried out boxes, a narrow bookshelf, and the tree with the blue birds. The final object was a floor lamp with a yellow shade.
The balcony fixture had never worked. The reliable light came from the lamp inside, shining through an open door.
A new tenant moved in three weeks later. Their evenings had no schedule. Sometimes the balcony stayed dark; sometimes colored lights appeared until two in the morning. A bicycle replaced the umbrellas. Herbs replaced the paper birds.
The view was no longer a clock, which was probably healthier. I bought a small analog clock for the kitchen and placed it where the yellow rectangle used to catch my attention.
It keeps excellent time, but it has never once made me wonder about the life across the street.