What I should have said to my neighbors
My dog pulled her away on a walk the other day. Three neighbors paused to make sure she was okay, looking up and down the street for cars, keeping their own dogs in control while I fetched her back.
But I didn’t thank them.
I didn’t even look closely enough at them to recognize who it was.
I was scared and angry, too busy to notice my own bruised and bleeding finger at first too, single minded and determined, making Cy sit and mind me for probably ten minutes straight inside our house. Only after I’d moved to accepting her doggie apology cuddles, relented and whispered ‘Good Dog’ in her warm spotty ears, remembering that in truth she SAT right down when I yelled at her, right there in the middle of the street, halfway across to the dog she wanted to greet — it was only then, after all of the hubbub receded, that I replayed the image in my mind and realized my neighbors were looking out for us.
I thought of that moment of realization this morning, reading Roman’s mama’s post about the principal who took care of him in the rain. Even in the midst of her fear for her boy, she noticed him holding the umbrella.
A good life always has rain and sometimes brutal things. But maybe noticing people who look out for us and for those we love is part of what makes life good too — even when we only notice later, in the rewind.
I guess this is all to say: I’m grateful for you, and the way you’ve shown up this year around me. I haven’t always said ‘thank you’ in the moment, but it’s real. Your masking, your staying home, the way you step a little wider in the supermarket aisles to give me space to pass, the honest you show on social media, your reluctant vaccinations or enthusastic jabs, your perseverance, your patience, your unnoticed hard work. I value you. In rainy times like these, your umbrella means something, and your quiet watching-out for us. I promise to notice just a little more.
