Said Daniel Victor

There’s a door in my third-floor apartment that leads outside to what passes for my back patio. You could call it a back patio, but it’d be more accurate to say it’s a filthy, dangerous rooftop without much of a purpose.

It brushes against other apartments on each side, and the Second Street garage swallows up any view I might be able to otherwise enjoy. I’ve thought about setting up a table and chairs out there and having people over for a party, but then I realized it wouldn’t even take a drink or two to see at least one person fall to her death. It’s relegated to the occasional breath of fresh air, the cigarette break for those who need it, once even a waving spree to the kind folks leaving their cars in the garage.

Last night, Lanette needed a smoke. I joined her out on my shitty patio for the air.

Then she did something amazing.

She climbed.

I’ve lived here for 2.5 years, been out there dozens of times, and it never occurred to me that there was something to climb. But there was, and it was right there all along.

It wasn’t even difficult. She didn’t ask for permission, didn’t say where she was going, she just spotted it and climbed. She went up the slight slope just to the right of the door, and the jump onto my own roof was only about three or four feet high. She kicked herself up there, not giving a damn about the dirt on her pants. She made sure not to spill her beer.

There we saw an empty bottle of liquor aside a filthy blanket and pillow, an obvious indication that at some point a neighbor of mine made this same discovery and found it a beautiful place to spend a night.

Like a child on an urban jungle gym, she continued to climb. This time she got a running start and impressively leaped onto the next rooftop over, scaling a five-foot ledge to get there. I joined her, making sure not to spill my beer and not caring about the dirt on my work pants.

And this one was even more beautiful. I had never seen my street from above like this; I have one small bedroom window with a very narrow view, and I rarely make my way over to it. Now I had a level view of the treetops, a fantastic vista into the nearby city lights, and a fantastic gust of air. It was a perspective I never knew existed.

I later found it all to be powerfully symbolic. That someone could enter your space with a curious eye, get some dirt on your pants and introduce you to something pretty incredible that’s been right under your nose — that’s a wonderful thing. It occurred to me that it’s exactly the kind of person you need to surround yourself with.

I went back out there tonight, hoping to find inspiration for this post. I wanted to measure the walls, take in a fuller view of the city, experience that air again.

And I made it as far as the first leap when I saw the raccoon staring at me with its evil little beady eyes. This raccoon has been the bane of my past two weeks, twice hanging out outside my front door, once appearing right at my back door. This time, I found myself at his door.

Perhaps I’ll be able to carve out some symbolism in that one, too. I’m not sure where getting rabies fits into the picture.