…For the Birds

“I hope they have cute teenage girls,” were the words from our younger son as I sat reading in the living room. I looked up to see a large moving van in front of the empty house across the street from our city home.

I smiled, understanding his thought process. There is indeed a bit of anticipatory excitement when it comes to new neighbors. But, what you hope for and what you get don’t always jibe.

I always hope for the well-grounded ones—warm, good-humored, quiet people with no pets would be on my list. You know the kind you can share a glass of wine with on their expansive deck at sunset, not the “collectible” hoarders, who store old rusting appliances in the backyard. Maybe a kindly major sports ticket office manager, who just happens to have occasional gratis tickets, not the guy who grows medical marijuana so he’ll have the jump on legalization. Perhaps a nurturing nurse practitioner with whom to discuss my latest hypochondriacal malady, not the owner of an untrained snarling dog, oh wait, that was us.

Out here in the country I hope for a literary expert with an abundant library of rare foreign translations and an equally abundant desire to share them with me. And speaking of rare and foreign, how about a retired 5-star Michelin chef with a kitchen filled with such herbs and spices? That might be nice. Not some guy who cuts the sleeves off of every single shirt he owns and tells me he can get me a deal on all the smoked meat I want.

Seriously, we have always been blessed with great neighbors both in the city and here in our new home (knock on wood.) But it’s the time of year where many of our neighbors, if they haven’t already, leave for warmer climes. “Flew the coop” is the  expression that comes to mind. One moment they are here dashing about in golf carts, zipping around on the lake, like the barn swallows that arc and dive on the golf course. Mowing their lawns, tending their gardens, like the robins that build homes only to abandon them come the cooler weather. Or like the summer tanager, my California-bound next door neighbors offer a short but dazzling flash of color to our lives. One day I'll look up and they’re all gone and I know I won’t see them again until spring or summer.

I’m a dyed-in-the-wool introvert...

But, more about this later. I'll finish this post in a day or so… I hope…