Strangers

I have finally met my neighbors.  Neighbors I have seen and smiled at for more than a year.  From all indications, they are Burmese.

Yesterday morning, I was out raking up leaves from the flower bed.  I said hello to three little boys, ages about four to six, who were riding bikes on the sidewalk.  They asked what I was doing; I told them; the youngest asked if he could come in my house; I said I need to talk to your mom to see if it’s okay; next thing I know, it’s supper time, and five small boys and one mom are sitting around the dining room table, eating veggie pizza (from Salvatore’s–fantastic).

Dinner was over in half an hour, and everyone left with a piece of pizza, including the little boy who said he didn’t like it.

A small start.  Now if I could expand that to other neighbors.  I have been saying hello-how-are-you to various folks for quite a while.  I guess the problem is that there have been very few of those spontaneous moments where people mutually recognize: hey, you aren’t going to hurt me, are you?

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