This week we say goodbye
to TV's favorite late night host.
And as part of his send-off,
here on screen is my neighbor.
Jose Andres walks on stage.
He embraces Stephen Colbert.
He is Love embodied, he is Energy.
He accepts a miniscule check
from the outgoing television host,
for a massive amount of money
earmarked for World Central Kitchen,
perhaps Earth's best charity.
And all the while,
I am pointing at the screen,
and I am babbling:
"That's our neighbor!"
"That's our neighbor!"
"Bethesda, Rep-re-ZENT!"
And my husband is nodding,
slowly, calmly, charitably,
knowing that I cannot be
diminished in this moment.
"That's my favorite human on the planet!"
I declare, pointing at the
cheeriest chef-slash-CEO of Caring.
My husband absorbs this, does not argue.
"NEIGH-BORRRRRRR!"
I sit back down,
although propped at
the edge of the couch,
leaning forward.
"He's my favorite!"
I repeat,
pointing at my parasocial Uncle.
My husband nods, silently.
"I mean, for someone I've
only seen and not talked to,
at the Bethesda Farmers' Market,"
I clarify, unconvincingly.
"Don't you remember?
"We went to his restaurant for our third date!
"He IS part of our family!"
I assert, without evidence.
"Okay, yep, I understand."
He returns his focus to the screen.
"THAT IS OUR NEIGHBOR."
"Omigosh."
I moon up at his bright pixels.
My husband, incidentally?
He is fond of saying aloud
"I am the luckiest!"
While side-eyeing me.
We all have our heroes.
Some of us get to live with them, like my husband.
Some of us just share municipal water supplies,
like I do with my Neighbor.
Either/or, what a life we get to live.
