He lives across the street in a beautiful brick house. I sit on my porch waiting for him to leave his house. He always has a ball in his hand. He plays all different sports and I can always tell what the season is by which ball he carries.
Sometimes he will check on the mail and wave to me. I will wave back politely. If it is a windy day, the wind chimes will make beautiful music and I sit back and close my eyes, but I always know when he is close. I can feel his presence.
The suburbs used to be quite boring until he moved in across the street. If only I could get the nerve to learn his name and introduce myself. Until then, I will sit here and enjoy the scenery.