Of course I know the answer. They moved out just two days ago, two states and forever miles away. I spent most of Friday preparing a dinner at our house for them. I chopped sweet potatoes. I tore, washed, and spun-dried lettuce. I washed mushrooms and chopped onions. The meat was perfectly tenderized and cooked. Everything was perfectly prepared... for a special farewell.
They arrive, and our meal chat is warm as well as the food. The specific details of our conversation are almost a blur... maybe because I'm thinking about too many things.
On Saturday's walk, tears dribble from my eyes as I talk about the finality of their move... their house looks so cold and dark. There will be no more spur-of-the-moment yard or telephone chats. I feel like quite the dork getting so emotional. Jeff, why do I feel so strongly about a neighbor moving away? Why does it feel like a death?
Maybe because Mary felt like an older sister to you?
Mary was like a sister! My real, 4-years-older sister, Confident Carla, was a childhood "roomie," in-and-out of my world. We attended activities together, as a family. Carla is still in and out of my life, but we have never really connected relationally.
Confident Neighbor Mary was also in and out of my world, but differently. We shared interests, backgrounds, ideas, eggs, and backyards...with and without our make-up intact. We had almost synchronized grand-baby boy arrivals. We bonded, surviving silly backyard adventures together.
 |
| Armadillo-kill |
Hero Harold soon enters the scene, with shovel in hand. Mary and I stand trembling in our respective backyards, hair-rollers intact, disgusted by the ugly, pointed-nose creature. We, too, are frightful sights. I want to video the kill, but before I know it, with no hesitation and with deadly force, "whack-attack!!!" Harold is the victor, and we have one bloody armadillo corpse. Ewwwww!!!
I even wrote a lamenting Facebook entry, including laughable remembrances like the "whack-attack," as a tribute to Mary's looming move, preparing my sad heart for her departure:
2013 has had its lows and highs, with bitter AND sweet memories. As I prepare to help Neighbor Mary pack, her eminent move is one of those lows. I recall fond times drinking tea & coffee and chatting on our back porches; a [Laverne & Shirley] ugly armadillo-kill, deer-devastation, and a [Lucy & Ethel] literal cell phone frightening lightning strike between our houses floods my memory; snow shoveling, airport runs & synchronized yard work, her embellished lettuce salad with homemade dressing, shopping and farmer's market adventures, and now, sadly, her neighborhood departure. As I purchase her decorative Asian-décor storage cabinet, it will reinforce the memories of her and other kindred friends ...the cabinet is downright practical for beautiful storage. Ah, ever the organizer!
The meal is over, as well as chatting. Harold and Mary walk through our kitchen and head for the front door, to forever exit from our neighborhood's daily world. Harold shares a moving story: Many times when I worked in my front yard, the little girl across the street, Katie, loved to stand in her front yard and yell, "Hi, Mr. Harold."
Last week Katie, again, stood in her front yard and yelled: "Hi, Mr. Harold!" but this time she added, "...Can I come over to say goodbye to you?"
Of course, Katie, please come over!
"Can I come into your house, Mr. Harold? I want to say goodbye to Mrs. Mary."
Why, yes! Please come in.
Katie experienced closure that day, and Harold's story is a perfect closure for my goodbye.
For the past 9 years, our little corner of the world has had a warming thaw. We were quite blessed, with friendly yet courteous, day-to-day, neighborly neighbors. Goodbye Mr. Harold.... and goodbye, Mrs. Mary.
Proverbs 18:24
A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother [or sister].
No comments:
Post a Comment