Won't You Be...

We now live in a neighborhood. Filled with the sounds of cars stopping at stop signs, kids riding their bikes, lawns being cut, wind blowing through tree tops and the distant hum of life moving at that speed that is just too fast sometimes.

We are out of that current now. Settling into our new little home. Tearing out carpet, removing hideous wallpaper, cutting the grass and scrubbing parkay floors in the kitchen (I'm trying to think of a name for the kitchen that pays homage to The Garden, but in a way other than calling it The Garden because I'm pretty sure we'll have an actual garden). There's a lot of work behind us and good deal more in front of us in the coming weeks. More trips to Home Depot -- the most manly thing I've done in some time because changing diapers doesn't elicit that Tim Allen grunt a guy needs every now and then. More yard-work, more housework and more realizing there's a whole lot more work to do.

Then there are the neighbors. Folks. Good people. I wasn't sure what to expect -- perhaps a "Hey diddily ho!" or a "Howdy, neighbor!". I've lived in an apartment complex for 2+ years and didn't know a soul other than the exchange student two doors down who frequently left his door open as he watched the EPL. But so far I've borrowed a couple of trash cans from a man who goes by Coop and have a request in for a ladder from another neighbor who's name I remembered because it was a vacation spot on Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Conversations between strangers are strange in that they are pacifying. They placate the fears of safety. And at the same time they open up obligations that are frightening. Requirements to make future conversations, to offer to help, to take moments to listen to the wind-blown tree-tops and ignore that distant hum.