My neighbors of seven years closed on their house Monday. I have a garage bursting at the seams with their stuff to prove it. I couldn't refuse. I had barely known them when my brother died suddenly. I was there for her when her mom died of cancer way too young. I saw their two toddlers to the brink of womanhood, the youngest now very near the chasm of teendom. They have known me before and after Snowflake.
Once upon a time when I was single and completely shitfaced at 2:30am, I took The Chidler out for a sprinkle. He was on a Flexi and tore off at the sight of a late night grazing bunny and disappeared into the darkness. I screamed bloody murder and Matt came bounding out of his house almost instantly. He jumped into his van to start the search after I drunkenly explained the circumstances.
We found him. Snagged around a tree. In the yard. Lots of memories.
Monday I took a big basket of budding tulips to the "new kids" on the block. They are an adorable young couple and this is their first home. They are so excited. I tucked an origami crane into the basket w/ a little note explaining it's significance. I actually get a little verklempt when I think of them. They can't be more than 25. They are just so cute and unspoiled by the pangs of life. Their exuberance is uplifting. If only I could can it and sell it.
Lift flap and inhale deeply.