It's early morning. With a small speaker playing soft instrumentals from his pocket, a retired carpenter from Arizona in his mid-70s sweeps the front patio outside my door. Jacob, a military veteran, ex-con, and active stoner, is my new neighbour.

I just moved in. Sipping my coffee and finishing up my first journal entry in the new place. The front door swings open gently, letting in the morning air while I sit back in amusement at my cat stretching out on the sun-streaked floor. This moment was everything I needed it to be. My new beginning had arrived. Here it was, my new life — my better life. Or so I thought.

The mountain was all that stood between my new home and the city. Its northern and southern edges sprawled out into the valley, outcrops of a pre-Columbian civilization dotting the city's outskirts. Neighbouring farms were few and far between, so the surrounding area was serenely quiet. Wild citronella and lemongrass grew in the garden, keeping the mosquitos away. Bugambilias climbed up the bricked walls with their white, peach, and purple blossoms acting as natural window dressings. But the best part about my new home was watching the sun come up over Monte Alban out in the distance. It was hard not to stand in awe at the tranquillity of it all.

Of course, it was not without its quirks. The road to the property was littered with potholes, the grass was overgrown with thistles, and the backyard was a dumping ground of random pieces of tin, plastic, and a never-ending supply of tires. And more than frequently, we ran out of water. But we had it all to ourselves.

One morning, during the first week I arrived, I woke up early and took it upon myself to start sweeping outside before Jacob began his morning chores. When he came out and saw me, I gave a 'Good morning!' and continued; feeling like I was upholding my do-gooder newcomer status.

Acknowledging my greeting with a nod, he walked up with one hand extended toward the broom I held. Telling me that (though he meant no offense), he didn't need any help. I wasn't sure what I had missed and felt the need to apologize, but I didn't know what for. (What, is it his broom or something?) So instead, I just smiled and retreated to my place to wonder (wtf?) in privacy.

A little while after, Jacob came to apologize. He began explaining that he had been known for being "a hard man" and was not unaccustomed to upsetting people. I assured him he hadn't upset me, and it seemed to offer a little relief. He went on to say that simple as it was, it [sweeping] was an important part of his day, his morning meditation.

I asked him if he would like to join me for a coffee outside, and he agreed. So we smoked a joint and got to chatting. Discussing the complexities of having a 'life plan', relationships, family ties, the prejudices around cannabis, the beauty of chia seeds, how funny our landlord was, and how completely paradoxical life was.

The next morning the same thing followed and that became the routine. I'd wake up, make a pot of coffee, roll a joint, and start journaling while Jacob swept around the front patio. When he finished, he came over with his mug and his pipe, and we'd carry on our conversation from the day before.

Over the days that soon passed, and in the mix of getting to know each other, I couldn't help but notice how much he referred to his wife. So one day, I asked about her. Asking in more detail how he'd come to live in Mexico now, on his own. To my surprise, he did not show the reluctance I anticipated while answering my personal question. Instead, he spoke of her with great affection.

He shared that while they were both passionate about living their lives in alignment with The Spirit, they had different faiths. He openly shared how much he loved her, how much he respected her, and that they just had different views. Unable to see beyond their differences, they eventually decided to live apart while remaining married. She went west for the Californian coast, and he went south for the Oaxacan hillsides.

Then, three months later… here he was, sharing coffee with me.

They were still in contact via email, and she had since met someone she was casually dating. From this, I could tell Jacob was comforted that she was no longer alone, and I think it eased his guilt some.

As for how I had gotten there, I had yet to share that story with him. I did not know where to start for one. But because Jacob mostly kept to himself, he avoided asking me lots of personal questions almost naturally. It made it a lot easier that there was nobody for me to entertain. But, also, left to myself, all there was to do was figure out how I was going to reinforce the damage done to my mental stability.

I had just spent the last few months in isolation with a man who — at one time — was feverishly in love with me, but had since become abusive and violent. Cut off from contact with friends and family, we'd moved from the city to far out of town. To get to our house, you needed to drive 40 minutes down an inconspicuous dirt road to the beach. Saying it [the seclusion] was for us to start over, I felt like he was trying to reassure himself I wouldn't leave him. Like, I was his.

During a workers' strike one afternoon, the highway was blocked and he wasn't able to access the road back to the house that night. It bought me the extra hours I needed to make the arrangements to leave. A few days later, I managed to stage a scenario around my cat needing to get emergency veterinary treatment (only available in Canada?) and planned my escape.

He swore if I didn't come back he'd come looking for me, and I believed him. And through reviling emails, phone calls, social media posts, texts, and voicemails, he tried his best.

It was still early days, and my adrenaline had yet to settle; I was physically on edge. Feeling the whiplash of guilt for leaving how I did, I just needed somewhere to be reclusive. I needed to fall apart without having anyone judge me for it.

Sometimes after working in the garden all day, Jacob would host dinner for the landlord and myself at his place. We'd each bring something to contribute to the meal, and we'd learn about one another's interests.

Our landlord would often say how thankful she was that we were taking such care of the land, and how welcome we were to be there. But there were also times I would catch her watching me across a room, with an empty expression on her face. Cold as stone, completely unphased that I was seeing her do it, she'd stare at me. More than once, I over-acted my surprise at this, attempting to laugh it off and make my discomfort (/her) stop. It didn't work.

One morning, after weeding through agave and turning the soil for the new seed, I saw Jacob and the landlord were about to head into town. Asking if I could get a ride with them, as I too had errands to run, the landlord said there wasn't enough room and drove off. (Hm…) I wasn't sure if I was just being sensitive, but it felt off.

The next day, my suspicions were confirmed. Up early, I had coffee simmering on the stove and was doing some writing, my door slightly ajar. In mid-thought, I got a tap tap tap on the door. Leaning back, I saw my landlord pressed into the frame of the doorway. I walked over with a smile, opened the door widely, and offered her some coffee.

She didn't say anything at first, but instead lifted her phone to show me something on the screen she wanted me to read. It was a translated message from Spanish, detailing how the man living next door belonged to her, how I was not to see or speak to him again, and how if I disrespected her, there would be consequences. (WTF?) I stopped smiling.

The message went on, explaining that I had a maximum of 2 hours to get my things together and get off her property, or she'd make a call and have me removed. I was confused.

She then said to me, "You understand, yes?"

"No? Not at all!"

"You need to go."

"OK. But, why? What happened?"

She paused for a second, then turning her phone back around, began typing up a new rejection message to translate while I waited. Her second message emphasized the first, saying it was over and I had to leave. Pointing to her wrist with her index finger, she then pointed at me and exaggerated a wave goodbye. Then, she walked away.

I closed my door and looked around my little apartment. (WTF??!!) I didn't know what the fuck was happening, but I didn't need 2hrs. I was packed and ready to go within half of one. The only thing left to do was to say goodbye to Jacob, but I had not seen him all morning. He'd given me a little pipe when I first arrived and I wanted to return it before I left.

Bags at the ready, I walked outside to find the landlord blocking my path to Jacob's door. She started yelling that she had warned me already, that I had to go now! I nearly laughed but, settled with a grimace instead.

"This is Jacob's. I just wanted to give it back and to say goodbye."

"Give it to me."

"What? No."

"You need to go."

"Yea, yea, I'm going. I just want to say goodbye."

She said nothing but just stared at me coldly again. I stood there for half a second, blinking my reality into action as I forfeited. Putting the pipe on the little table outside, I turned and walked away. A fresh hit of adrenaline helped me up to the top of the hill, just as a taxi was passing and I got in. Without looking back, I made a mental note of the tranquil hillsides as they began to fall away behind me.

After getting into the city, I found a hotel for the next couple of nights and started looking into new opportunities for myself immediately. Less than an hour later, Jacob called to check in on me, asking me what had happened and where I was. I chuckled and told him he should talk to his girlfriend about it, and he asked if we could meet for a coffee that afternoon to chat more freely. So, we agreed on a spot to meet a few hours later when my anxiety had subsided some.

When I got to the cafe, Jacob was already waiting inside. Once again chatting over a couple of coffees and enjoying each other's conversation, Jacob asked me to explain what had happened earlier. So I went over the details of the morning, trying again to laugh it off, saying that the landlord was most likely bluffing. But, of course, it bothered me.

He listened intently, and after I described the conversation with her, he confirmed his knowledge of her feeling jealous. Leading up to this morning, she had asked him to start coming by her house in the mornings for coffee instead of with me. (Oh, great. What sweet version of Hell is this?) I felt like I had just escaped one telenovela for another.

He said he had left early that morning to grab some supplies in town for projects around the property. He had lots to do and so got an early start, not thinking anything else of it. And why would he? Trying to joke about what might happen if she knew where he was, now, he grew aggravated. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he rubbed his brow. (Uh-oh. Too soon?)

A moment later, ignoring my previous comment, he looked up at me and elaborated that it was good I had left quickly. He felt that, in all seriousness, it wasn't safe for me to be around her. Sharing his discomfort with her threats towards me, he seemed disturbed that I was without a place to live now. I knew I'd figure something out though, and I did my best to reassure him of that much. Still sitting with one hand over his brow, his thumb and index finger pressing firmly into his temples, I asked him,

"And, are you ok?"

In a somber tone, he replied, "I'm fine."

Admitting that he had overlooked the emotions of their affair, he confessed he would need to remove himself from the situation when the time was right. He wasn't sure where the next path would lead, but he would not allow anyone to control him like this.

When we said our goodbyes, he hugged me and told me that from now on, he was my Abuelo — that we were connected. Waving to me from the sidewalk, he got on his bus and went home.

That was several years ago now.

The last time I heard from Jacob, he said he was doing well. He had written to me from his home in Arizona, after being rekindled with his wife and they had since adopted a little dog together. He shared he'd been reflecting on our time as neighbours together and how mysterious that whole experience was. He seemed content with being unable to determine his life in terms of who was right and who was wrong anymore.

Comprehending how his former search for solitude had eventually circled back to his love for his wife, and how through their reunion they both felt they'd gotten closer to The Spirit, was yet another sign for him that life was a paradox. A discovery, he said, that amused him greatly.

"I can't help but marvel at the magic of this life. Nobody knows for sure what path they'll end up on. But the one provided to us now is a gift. Taken with great courage and an open heart; I trust you will find it leads to a contented life."

To his memory.