There was a knock on my door earlier, I knew immediately who it was. The maintenance man, who stands some height above me, with his long grey hair pulled back into a pony tail. He always apologizes for showing up, he doesn’t really need to. Apparently my downstairs neighbor has a leak.

He’s an interesting guy, who seems to think I am equally as interesting. He told me how he ended up here it’s quite a story, one I’m sure would make most people reconsider what they think is important in life.

He goes on to tell me what he plans to do in my apartment before winter, and I decide now is the time to tell him I won’t be here in the winter.

He looks disappointed, asks where I’m going. Then he tells me this place is a “shit-hole” and I’m better off moving, it’s just a shame he didn’t get to know me better.

I’d say we got to know each other pretty well this last year. At one of our first meetings, when I had locked myself out of the basement, he brought me a big bag of home grown, he did it again at the beginning of the summer, I must give off the vibe those are gifts I’m willing to take.

I once sat at my kitchen table while he worked on my sink and we talked about life, how we got here, and what our plans are. I leant him a book about a man who found himself on the Appalachian trail, I secretly want him to keep it to remember me by.

He left a bag of frames at my door once after hearing me say I had pictures to hang but nothing to hang them in.

I wish him well. I hope in the future I meet more people like him. People who seem to have knowledge about life that they aren’t even aware they have. People who have lived through things and found themselves on the other side, maybe a little confused.

I’ll always be fond of the super, an interesting man who enhanced my experience living here at the apartment.