From My Balcony
written by: Anna Kinkead
From my balcony (or should I say, “Winter Garden” per the leasing company blurb?) I can see many things. The polite phrase is “people-watching” while at the other end of the creep spectrum would be the more sinister “stalker.” After nightfall, I might be deemed a “peeping Tom.” So funny to assume only men delight in this habit.
So today, when I was people-watching, a couple on the dock caught my attention. A tall man, dressed in autumnal corduroy slash lumberjack attire was somewhat reminiscent of a Flat Stanley cutout. The woman was more vital and animated (not difficult) and faced the water, feeding the Canada geese in the river with small chunks of bread. The man, older, her father, I presume, is turned slightly away from both the water and the woman. Bread in hand, she nudges him on the elbow and a corner of her bread square breaks off and dances to the ground past her thigh, tightly clad in cleaning white of her jeans. The man remains immobile, hands in pockets, his body language clearly demonstrating that he is both cold and disinterested. The woman dissipates her annoyance by rapidly and rhythmically tearing the bread into smaller pieces which are eagerly received by the geese. “Look how much fun it is!” she attempts to convey, when what she is really feeling is the cry of a small girl, “Look at me, look at me!” Undeterred, she reaches into the clear plastic bread bag and pulls out another white square. Again the nudge. Once more the lack of response. This time he actually walks off, erect and wooden. She chases after him, tenderly takes his hand and kisses him sensuously, her cheeks moving as she slides her tongue into his mouth. Maybe it wasn’t her father.
- From My Balcony - February 10, 2026
