Karma Lives Here

I thought I would take advantage of this moment of tranquility in my own life to say a few words about my neighbor.

He's moving, you know. Tra la la.

Other than that one time, I have refrained from discussing my neighbor. Even now, I hesitate. Why? Because although I have certainly never told anyone on my street about this blog, you just never know. And honestly, I don't want any trouble. I live here. I plan to continue living here, and I would like to do so without vandalism. That's reasonable, isn't it?

So I will stick to telling you the things that anyone with two eyes could see this neighbor doing. Like, yes, how about setting off fireworks in the middle of December on a Sunday night? Maybe it's a silly thing to be bothered by. After all, our houses are separated by a good 1/2 acre swath of trees, so it's not as though they were right outside my front door. It's just the principle of the thing.

And how about driving his snowmobile across the top of my front lawn, leaving a streak of tracks in every fresh, untouched blanket of snow that falls?

How about staying up partying outside all night, howling like a wolf and blaring your music so loud that I can still hear it even through the 1/2 acre swath of trees?

How about never, ever waving back when we pass each other in our cars?

Here's the thing. Everyone moved here at about the same time. When we first moved here, I was married. For six months, we were one big street of best friends. We all hung out together, spent every weekend together, one big happy crowd. Then I kicked my husband out. Suddenly, I was not fun. Plus, since I was the one doing the kicking out, I was highly suspect.

I had to remind myself that these people had only known me six months and therefore had absolutely no idea of the reality of my life. I especially had to remind myself of this when I learned that they were taking odds on how long it would be until I had to sell my house and move. Because clearly I would never make it on my own. I stopped getting invited to most gatherings - although I could still hear them going on - and I struggled for ways to answer the Tornadoes' questions: "Why aren't we going to so-and-so's house? Why can't we swim in their pool?" It sucked. It sucked for a long, long time.

And here I still am, four years later. Reassembled and doing okay. I have no idea if everyone around here still gets together every spare second, because my own life is pretty darn full. Most of my neighbors are downright friendly again. But more importantly, I have made new friends with whom I can actually be myself. That self is in much better condition than it was a few years ago. Some days it isn't in such great condition, but they are still my friends. Thank you, M, C and D, for that. And while I don't know the reasons behind the "For Sale" sign next door, I can't help but feel a little bit like a Survivor contestant. A nice, non-backstabbing one.

Who waves.