Panorama

I was trying to concentrate when the neighbors came out.

They’re not bad, just loud. They’re the type that can’t not comment on what they see, and from their balcony, they can see everything.

And when the downstairs neighbor replied from her spot beside the pool, I knew I wasn’t going to get any studying done.

The neighbors get so excited! The two above have a proclivity to wearing bright green, and they like to hide among their pots of bougainvillea. Like yelling isn’t going to reveal their location? But they get so animated that half the time one is almost sitting on the other’s shoulders, waving and calling to their friend at the pool, in her dark brown swimsuit.

It makes me chuckle. I always wonder what can be so stimulating, as to merit such wild gesticulations.

My gaze strays from balcony and poolside, travels past our high-rise towards the ocean.

It was a sparkling day.

The sun was behind our building, but it was shining on the gentle waves, making them glitter with reflected spangles. A few surfers were farther out, sitting on their boards, but the breakers just wouldn’t show up on such a fine morning. Early enough that the crowds hadn’t arrived yet, so the prime spots were the only ones with brightly-painted umbrellas anchored in the sand. But not early enough that the ice cream carts and the hot dog sellers and the french fry guy hadn’t already taken the super-primo spots on the boardwalk. A few ladies dressed up in Victorian white biking dresses were cycling in pairs, because we attract a certain type here.

Seagulls lined the pier, keeping watch over beach and boardwalk alike. Not mobbing like they could, and usually do, but poised, with all the potential – and none of the action.

Two guys were throwing frisbees for their dogs, seeing who could throw the farthest. Even from this distance, I could see russet and golden fur ripple, and red tongues lolling out of happy mouths. They raced across the sand, and their humans laughed and forced each other to do silly dances as payment for losing the round, depending on who got to the frisbee first.

A family hovered on the edge of the wet sand. Mom carefully dipped the toddler’s toes in the foamy water, while kidlet shrieked in glee. And Dad took pictures, lots of them.

Palm trees swayed in a breeze I couldn’t hear over the hum of the air conditioner.

I heard a tinkling of music. I followed it with my eyes, and there was the carousel. The horses were stopping, some freezing in impaled mid-leap. The calliope tinkled a jangly tune, stopped for a moment, then started up again with renewed vigor. Horses plunged and rose, precise in their course, swinging around the central pole, dipping and swaying, round and round. Slow, stop, jingle jangle, whir whir whir.

There is a muffled clop-clop, and a carriage ambles up the street. I had forgotten; during the summer months, the street is closed, so it can be used for such things. Surprisingly, a pair of teenage skateboarders wait on the corner for the carriage to pass, and only step on their boards when the horse is too far away to panic.

Amazing. A perfect day, and I’m not out in it.

I am suddenly filled with a wave of jealousy, and wish a tsunami would come and sweep it all away.

And immediately I wish to take it back, because I don’t want anyone to come to harm. Not really. Jealousy is indeed a monster.

A couple wanders down the high tide line, with a net bag bulging with seashells.

The toddler finds a driftwood stick, and throws it. Instantly the dogs abandon their frisbees to chase it, and bring it back in tandem – and proceed to give slobbery kisses to the accompaniment of delighted giggles. Dad snaps more pics, and the guys awkwardly dance, since they both lost this bet.

I sigh, sipping cold coffee.

And the scene fades.

I blink.

My balcony window faces a blank brick wall, as always.

I stare again at the print I bought in a secondhand store. The seaside holiday, with all its details, vibrates slightly from the noisy traffic blaring from below. Thankfully out of sight, but not out of audio range.

My studying won’t get any more studied, if I keep sightseeing. When I get my degree, then maybe I can have what I’ve been daydreaming about.

Resolutely, I shut the curtain. I walk past the snow globe with the carousel that’s been sitting on a shelf, random music playing when the vibrations touch the tightly-wound spring. I glance at the lush, leafy, aquarium again, where the green frogs are still croaking to the brown frog below, under their bright heat lamp.

Time to get back to work.