When we first moved to the house we currently own and occupy thirty years ago, the neighbours to the right of us had already been living in theirs next door for two years. They were late to marry, we early to marry. This was our fourth house, their first. Our children were adults and had left to live on their own, by then. We were in our mid-50s.

That couple next door represented the quintessential personality opposites; she was the extrovert to his introvert. He scowled, never smiled, her smile could light up a dark room. They had an infant girl at the time we moved into our house, followed several years later by a boy. The girl is long gone, living her own life as a single, interested in the performing arts, working as a supply teacher while the boy, having graduated from university years ago continues to live with his parents.

His mother, the children's grandparents on their father's side, was a rather cold and remote individual, his father a warm, effusive Italian of the old school, a pastry chef for a large hotel. It was clear who this man who lived next door to us for so many decades resembled, just as his son, still living with his parents, resembles his father as well; socially aversive, they would do just about anything to avoid coming in contact with other people.

Her parents would come to visit from where they lived in southern Ontario, usually twice a year. Initially they stayed at their daughter's house. And then they began driving a recreational vehicle, would park it in the driveway and live in it while visiting for a two-week period. That turned into renting motel rooms for the period of their visit. Our neighbour's children's grandparents on their mother's side, were not welcome to stay in the house with their daughter and grandchildren. Bizarre beyond belief. Even when her father who like her mother was a very congenial, pleasant person, become very frail with ill health plaguing him.

Until his retirement a few years back, our neighbour's wife, friendly and open to a fault, sought the company of others, threw frequent little tea parties and enjoyed being around other people. If she mentioned her husband at all it was just to casually throw out that he was 'private', not given to small talk, and that was a colossal understatement. COVID self-isolation suits this man to a T. He was out yesterday mowing his lawn in the early evening, wearing a face mask.

They used to go for walks around the neighbourhood, the only time they would leave their house but for food shopping, the last few years. Now he no longer ventures outdoors, but she continues to take daily walks around the block, now in the company of their son. The son has grown a beard and moustache, neither looking particularly well on him, a long, stringy beanpole of a young man. Neither he nor his father acknowledge the presence of anyone. Our ever-cheerful neighbour walking with her son along a deserted street now wears a face mask.

This arrangement between two people who have been married for just over thirty years appears consensually interdependent. He tells her what to do; she does what he indicates she should. In most peoples' minds that's controllingly abusive. It certainly is in mine. She no longer seeks out the social company of others. On occasion she will cross the street to sit out on the porch of another neighbour. A woman who also never ventures away from her house. Her reason is that of physical health in the sense that she is one of those people who over the years became so incredibly and largely rotund she can barely perambulate.

There is no hint of physical violence in the household next door and as far as we know there never was. Our neighbour appears to be quite content with her life.