The Neighborhood

I had a massage this afternoon--a gift from my former boss at the writing center. Because I missed an hour of work, I decided to sit at my desk and do some administrative stuff when I got home around 6. I am lucky to have only mindless work to do, as there is so much going on outside!

Every few minutes, one of my super nice neighbors (the one who mows our lawn sometimes and mulched our bushes before we dug them up and let weeds grow in their stead) runs past the house chasing his daughter. This little girl is wearing a pink bicycle helmet and learning to ride a bike without training wheels for the first time. She's so proud of herself and he's so proud of her. It's so darn cute.

Then another set of neighbors comes out fake-jogging after their 2-year-old, who screams, "On mark, GO!" and runs with his limbs flailing, trying to beat his parents and believing he can do it.

Finally, the woman who just moved in across the street, the one who doesn't have living room curtains and painted her dining room orange sherbet, comes walking home with her dog. For the first time, I realize her dog has only three legs. She talks to him like he's a real person, because of course he is. She waters her plants and tells him not to eat them, because her tiger lilies are her favorite.

The whole time, the old Italian men alternate sitting on their porches and pruning their immaculate lawns. I don't know how to rip my eyes away. I think I'll sit on my front porch instead.