My hubby and I have lived in five places since we were first married. I think moving is a hobby for us. A weird one, but a hobby none the less. Needless to say, I’ve had lots of neighbors. Our second apartment was the bottom half a two-story house. The houses on the street were no more than a driveway’s width apart. We lived next door to a family. A family that should have been on the Jerry Springer show. There were the parents, and their two children. Their one teenage daughter decided she wanted to have a family of her own so she had a baby and the baby’s teenage daddy lived in the house too. This family believed in communicating with each other. A lovely quality all families should practice. However, they did their communicating on the front lawn. It was no surprise to find them outside screaming down the street to each other when I pulled up after a long day at work. I would sit in my car and wait for them to go back inside. It was rude to interrupt and who knew if anyone was packing a gun.
I’ve also had wonderful neighbors. When we purchased our first house an adorable family knocked on our door. The mom held her sweet little boy with bouncy platinum curls, the dad stood alongside his two cute girls, twelve and eight. They baked brownies. Over the years we borrowed sugar, shared food, and hung out on a Thursday nights watching television. You could count on them to keep an eye on your house, your kids, and you. I was very sad to move away from them.
Moving to the country, two houses later, was a bit of a shocker for me. You can read a little about it here. But I have to tell you, we struck gold with our neighbors. It shouldn’t happen twice, but somehow it did. Recently, Noodge 1 locked himself and the puppy out of the house when no one was home. He went across the street to the neighbors to use the phone and wait for us to return. The puppy and the neighbor’s three kids, 7, 6, and 4, had a blast running around the yard together. More recently, our house alarm went off while Noodge 2 was home with the puppy. The police came, it was a three ring circus, but another neighbor sent me a text. “I drove by and saw you talking to the police. You looked okay, but I wanted to double check. Let me know if you need anything.”
If the weather is bad and I’m late getting home for the bus I can ask someone to grab my Noodges and drop them at the house. And I often do the same for them. The bus stop is a meeting ground to say hello, how are you, what’s new? We gather in each other’s yards when hot air balloons touch down on our street. We wave to each other as we pass by in our cars. We moved to Mayberry. Now all I need is Andy to come walking up and Aunt Bea to make a homemade pie.
How about you? What are your neighbors like?