The geckos began to appear during those two years.
In the warmer months, they started to visit our window at night.
They clung flat against the window.
The light inside was always on.
Slightly yellowish silver bellies against the frosted glass.
Their silhouettes visible on the other side.
The tips of their long tails curve.
Their legs spread wide, like inverted Vs.
Their toes open out sharply, dotted like small petals.
Protruding jaws.
Eyes bulging from either side of their faces.
Startling, sharply defined bodies against the summer night window.
Some were large, others small.
They all seemed to hunt alone.
Motionless, staring at something.
At the end of their gaze, usually a small moth resting.
On summer nights, tiny creatures come to the window, drawn by the orange light.
And the gecko moves closer. Little by little.
Ready to pounce.
No sign of their presence.
Holding their breath.
An intense energy.
Where the geckos came from, I don’t know.
At night, I opened the back door and small black shadows darted away.
After renovations began next door, they disappeared altogether.
Sometimes, when a small moth rests on the window at night, my eyes search for those silhouettes.
For the startling shapes of their bodies.
