Our neighbor Ron was the first to welcome us to the neighborhood in 2001 and the first to offer sympathy wishes for Pokey. In the summer he brought over paper plates of fried green tomatoes and armfulls of peppers and squash and tomatoes. In the winter it was loaf after loaf of zucchini bread and all the newest movies to watch in a snowstorm. If one of us was out of town he'd mow our lawns or shovel our driveways.
He has left behind a wheelchair bound wife, a one and a half year old German Shepherd pup that looks like and has the energy of a kangaroo and many broken hearted friends, co workers and neighbors.
I'm reminded of when my father died and my mother was left adrift, not driving or ever having paid a bill. She had a steep learning curve.
Our neighbor Donna has the same. But now the bills are all on line, pass words unknown and she is hindered by cerebral palsy.
This is where the rubber meets the road I thought. This is when you come when called. This is when we realize how good our lives are and we have no problems.
And thanks to those of you who emailed and wondered how and where I was, this is when I come out of hiding, put down the book and write about my world. Swear to God the next post will be happier.