I was curled up on an old, rusty chair on our balcony, hugging my knees as I tried to clear my mind and soak in five minutes of peace. Recently moved into our new home in a new city that swarmed with life below me, I felt incredibly small. I was silently praying to God that we would at least meet a friendly face here to make things more bearable.

From the corner of my eye I caught some movement on our neighbor’s balcony. Apparently I had been spotted, too, because the woman quickly turned around and disappeared, leaving behind only a wisp of cigarette smoke. I didn’t think much of it at that time, but after a while I started to suspect that she was avoiding us. She probably isn’t the friendly type, I thought, trying to reason an explanation.

As the days went by, the not-so-friendly neighbor became less startled by our presence. Sometimes she would nod in response to our greetings. The day she smiled back at me, I ran inside to tell my husband. “She smiled!”

Months passed, and the still-nameless neighbor became more comfortable sharing our company on the balcony and even started to bring her daughter with her. We figured out they couldn’t speak English, but we were able to learn that the little girl’s name was Ada, and she was two. She soon became fond of our kids. Unlike us adults, the language barrier was never an issue to them.
Imagine our surprise when one day when we heard a knock on our door and opened it to find little Ada on the doorstep. She was accompanied by her mother and another nice lady who spoke very good English. They were cooking and were out of salt. I was so glad that they were comfortable enough to ask that I brought them a whole unopened bag of salt along with some cute stickers for Ada.

The next day, when the nice lady greeted us on the balcony holding Ada, we learned that she was in fact Ada’s mother, and our quiet neighbor was the nanny. Now her aloofness made more sense to us. This wasn’t her home.

Soon the kids became such good friends that we all agreed their balcony meetings should be upgraded to in-home play dates. When I first visited their apartment, the nanny was there, too. I could finally extend my hand and tell her my name. “I’m Katia,” she said with a big smile. She reached for my baby, gave her a hug and a kiss and welcomed us like we had been best friends forever. Once again, I was reminded how much more there is to people than what meets the eye, and how slowly relationships and trust are built.

I still sometimes sit on the balcony staring at the city below. I still feel overwhelmed and small. But now I also feel hopeful. Our friends are out there. We just haven’t met them yet. Thank you, Katia. And thank you God for giving us that friendly face we have been praying for and so much more.

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