I don't have a picture of Brenda right now,
but didn't want to have to delay this post until morning.
Brenda lives on the first floor
and whenever I pick up a call from her she says,
"Hello! This is Brenda Downstairs."
I have her programmed into my phone as such--
first name Brenda, last name Downstairs.
So I already know who is calling.
I'm not sure how old Brenda Downstairs is.
She has been a widow for a long time.
Her sons live far away.
She calls me if there is high wind.
Or even the threat of high wind.
"Are you okay up there?
You know that you can come down."
Once, I told her that I loved the shoes she was wearing.
Brenda Downstairs called me a couple of hours later
and told me that she got the shoes at DSW,
she had a coupon that she would probably not use,
and that I should knock on her door and get it.
She called me on Thanksgiving morning
because she saw my car out front,
and wanted to make sure I was okay.
Tonight, she heard my bathwater drain
and Brenda Downstairs called.
I don't know what the original reason for her call was.
But we ended up talking about love, loss, snow,
On this December Sunday, it's Brenda Downstairs.