I'm fairly certain my neighbor's not a lunatic. And if they are, perhaps they're benign enough...
I'm sitting at my desk in my office. This is a room with windows spanning three of 4 walls, making it a much sought after gathering place for natural light. It's also on the second floor, so it's kind of a crow's nest, too; optimal for neighborly spectating.
Mostly I enjoy being surrounded by tree tops. I like being able to see patches of the sky peering through from between the branches, and getting to catch glimpses of the goings-on at the park across the street. So, today, I'm staring into space trying to think through the best way to rewrite a paragraph I'm working on when something catches my eye from within the sea of green below. Sometimes the local cats cut through my backyard. It's funny; they seem to pick each other up from their respective houses to go hang out together. It reminds me of when I was a kid and I'd bike up the street to Bryan's house after to school to knock on his door and ask if he wanted to play catch in the cul de sac.
At the moment, however, there's no cats to be seen.
The movement that'd caught my eye was my neighbor. They're kneeling in the grass next to a baby blue wheelbarrow and a couple of trowels of various sizes. I'm watching as they gesture animatedly with their hands and nod their head.
I conclude they must either be talking to someone on the phone through a pair of ear buds, or that they're imparting some words of encouragement to the plants in their garden. It's hard to tell. They're wearing a beige ball cap with some sort of fabric draped across their ears and neck to ward off the sun. Either way, I think I like them more.
I find myself sitting there at my desk nodding my approval.
When's the last time someone lowered your defenses just by being themselves when they thought no one was watching?
onward.
For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.