The Window Washer and I Lead Parallel Lives

At 10:26 in the morning, we both linger on the fourth floor

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It’s 10:26 on a Wednesday morning. I sat in my car in the parking garage for a little too long again, and now I’m anxiously checking my inbox, late to respond.

I should have stayed home today, I think.

I see movement through the corner of my left eye. A cable is bouncing up and down against the windows on the building next to mine. I let the blinds up to see what it is. There, suspended somewhere between four-and-five stories-high, is a man attached to the cable, cleaning the windows.

I watch as he pulls a squeegee out of the bucket hanging from his toolbelt, washes the window carefully, places the squeegee back into the bucket, and then gives the window a healthy wipe with a cloth. He puts his gloved hands on the cable and gently lowers himself a few feet to get to the window below him to repeat the process.

I’m mesmerized by the parallel lives we lead. We’re at the same level, me sitting comfortably at my desk on the fourth floor, anxious about reading emails, him suspended four floors high, cleaning the outside of office building windows.

Yet, somehow, his existence feels more anchored and stable than mine.