I don’t know all of my neighbors. There are some houses that are rentals. One house has seen a couple of families come and go just since we’ve been here. Most neighbors wave and say hello. And I know the names of folks on both sides of us. I know which vehicles belong to which house. And I can usually spot a “visiting” vehicle now.
Our closest neighbors, proximity wise, are the best neighbors in the world. They do the little things neighbors do for one another like close the garage door when Husband leaves it open and leaves the house. They pay attention to strangers poking around the neighborhood. They brought us fresh bread when we first moved in. They stand on the other side of the fence and ask about our day, our families, and our activities. We started painting the house this week. One day the neighbor Mister brought us fresh watermelon, already cut. He gave me suggestions on how to paint and different tools to use. He adapted his own tools for me to use. When I remark that I don’t think I’m doing a very good job he says reassuredly that “it looks fine, it looks fine” or “good job”.
The side of the house facing them is going to be the last of the house to be painted. Mostly because Missus neighbor had surgery on her knee and was then feeling a little sick from medicine. I wanted to do something to cheer her up. Not being too OCD about painting my house perfectly I decided to have some fun. At the end of my first day of painting I left her a little get well card.
She couldn’t believe I would paint that on my house for her.
So at the end of painting day number two:
At the end of day three:
Then I went out to paint again today. The Missus neighbor comes over for a visit. She’s walking pretty good. And her knee looks and feels so much better. After a spell of visiting she asks if she can make us some sandwiches. Oh how I wanted a sandwich! But I was so tired and I wanted to finish painting the back of the house. Tonight. I didn’t want to clean up long enough to eat and then come back out. She was so sweet but she understood. Plus I didn’t want her going home, making us food and coming back. Remember….knee surgery. So Husband takes her in the house to show her some work we had just done in there. He comes out later and stares at me smiling. I take my music out of my ears and he says “she’s making you a turkey sandwich and me a grilled cheese”.
My heart was happy and my belly was glad. I was sitting on the ground painting the foundation when the Mister neighbor hollers out “delivery boy”. And he brings us our dinner.
I’m telling you I have the best neighbors ever.
I even have it in writing:
Turkey on rye. Greatest neighbors ever.
How did I get so lucky?
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