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Health & Fitness

Neighbors

Today I am grateful for neighbors.  Yesterday I was nailed to the kitchen table, reading yet another mystery by Lisa Scottoline.  In my peripheral vision I caught a steady stream of neighbors marching up to get the mail.  This book is intense, so I tried to not pay attention to them.

 

Usually I don’t read in the kitchen so I miss this exodus.  But yesterday the sun was poking in at just the right angle to hit my shoulders while I sat at the table.  I felt like a kitty-cat, finding the tiniest ray.  I don’t pay much attention to what my neighbors are doing because it’s really none of my business.  I like it that way.  It’s not that I’m  unfriendly, I’m just not TOO friendly.  I learned that painful lesson a long time ago with a pushy neighbor I had befriended, assaulting me every time I was outside, whether working in the garden, reading a book or in deep conversation with a friend.  She even followed me into my house.  I had to put my foot down hard to get it to stop.  I cautiously like my neighbors.  Fool me once. . .

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One of the mail-walkers stopped to look at something on the ground, in the bark of one of the front-yard trees.  Soon another stopped, then another, and another, and another until I wondered what in the world the attraction was.  The circle of seniors, some with canes and walkers, surrounding the tree was odd.  What are they looking at?  I wanted to read the book, but now I was too curious.  They pointed and chatted and laughed and soon dispersed, peeling away reluctantly, like kids called inside for supper.  I waved from the window if they glanced my way.

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By now they were all back in their homes and I had to squint to see what they had been looking at.  There, peeping out of the bark was a tiny, lone, happy-yellow crocus.

I’m grateful because my neighbors pulled me out of myself to remind me that Spring is on its way, no matter what winter has to say about it.   Maybe I’ll attend one of the neighborhood events this year. . .cautiously.

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