Alberta and Alberto were neighbors. She liked to sit outside on her porch before sunset to look at her beautiful flowers and to people watch.

   They each had indoor spouses who preferred time and space alone inside their homes. Alberta had Jim; Alberto had Mrs.Alberto. She liked the fact they shared the same month of August with birthdays very close.

“He’s a Leo”, like me, she often said when talking about him. Mrs. Alberta, had cocoa brown skin with noticeable cheek bones, a witty sense of humor and a smile that fit her 81 year-old face. Her beautiful silver hair out shined any of her in-case-of-emergency wigs.

Mr. Alberto was of Mexican American heritage. He was tall, vibrant, tanned, had a softly worn smile, with a head full of white hair. At 80 something, he was still the charmer.

On occasion, he would innocently half-flirt with her. If there is such a thing. Mr.Alberto would cross the street when his wife was running errands, or when Mrs.Alberta was watering her roses, or sometimes while her husband Jim slept in his favorite chair. The talks were long enough to be social..short enough to be safe. He was always on the move; cutting his own lawn,playing tennis regularly.

 I often joked with my Mother about her “82-year-old boyfriend” across the street. She would snap back quickly in her how-dare-you tone of voice.

” You know we are both married, do not say that!”

“And your point”? I would laughingly reply. Of course I was kidding with her. On the other hand, I know that a very powerful crush, infatuation or love can happen at any time. This means to anyone,at any age, regardless of class, income, status or even being married to other people. True fact. I wish I had a better answer…but I don’t.

When Jim passed away, Mrs.Alberto brought over a dish. A traditional act of kindness shown by next door neighbors when they knew one another a few generations ago.

It was appreciated, but we honestly did not know who she was. We had never seen her up close so we didn’t know what she looked like.She rarely spoke and barely waved when she was outside heading to their car. But she did respectfully offer her condolences to my Mother. They both did.

The widows of her church embraced her, the minister’s wives reached out and brought food.Of course we were there for her. She was not alone, but really, she was. Jim was her husband for over 40 years. He was a hardworking, African American Army veteran. When they married, he retired my Mother in her early 40’s to manage their home. It would be the first time she ever lived alone.

Mr. Alberto, stepped back during this time of grief. We did not hear from him as much. He would call on occasion to say hello, to ask if she needed anything,

A few months into the spring of that year, there were cars in his front yard. I looked across the driveway and saw their son. Mr. and Mrs. Alberto had to face a new reality.

Their son and his wife decided to move them closer to keep an eye on them.

Mr. Alberto and his wife moved away first. Mrs. Alberta had often told him that she planned to do likewise. Perhaps moving to San Antonio, with her son and daughter-in-law, then on to North Carolina to be with her daughter and son-in-law.

That move never happened.

April 27, 2015, Mrs.Alberta passed away to join her husband Jim and my brother Stanley and left us to ourselves. Not having any way of contacting Mr. Alberto, we went about the business of closing out her life.

 October 7, of the same year, the last load on the truck pulled away. I sat in the driveway preparing myself for some much needed delayed crying. But Mr. Alberto slowly walked up. I rolled down the window, collected myself, and said hello.

“Where’s Alberta”? He asked reluctantly as his wife waited with the car running.

“She passed away last April” I managed to say out loud again. Mr. Alberto dropped his head looking at the porch.

“I have been stopping by, and calling, and ringing the doorbell for weeks. I am so sorry to hear that”. He whispered to me.

“You were great neighbors, ” I said smiling and waving to Mrs.Alberto as she placed the car in reverse to leave.

I thought to myself, he made my 81-year-old Mother feel attractive and appreciated. I should have said more. I should have said thanks for walking across the street and saying hello when she sat outside needing to talk to someone. Oh, and one more thing (as Lieutenant Columbo would say)  “I heard about the birthday kiss on the cheek you planted on her one afternoon”. 

I thought about it but I did not say anything. No words were needed. Even though some would say “shame on you”…. there was no shame in it. Because she talked about it for weeks with a school-girl-I-still-got-it smile.

Was it wrong? It was her birthday. Maybe, or maybe not. But only because she did not have her really cute wig on at the time. Her words, not mine.

I drove back home that day thinking about Mr. Alberto. He was feeling sad because she was a good neighbor for him too.