I’m writing this at my kitchen table while a five year old boy sits beside me, eating his lunch and chattering. Not the five year old boy who usually sits in that spot. This is Tonka’s good friend from the neighbourhood. His mom had to work today and he was sent home from school with an asthmatic cough, so he’s staying with me for a few hours.
I love our neighbourhood. People here genuinely care about one another. This particular neighbour mom picked up the entire contents of my paper recycling box when a FedEx truck ran over my full box at the curb a few weeks ago, dragging the box through the street and scattering my paper garbage everywhere. You just can’t fake that kind of caring and commitment to a neighbour.
Even if she hadn’t picked up my garbage off the street, I would have said yes when my neighbour asked if I would watch her son. He’s delightful. And helping each other is just what we do in this neighbourhood. When we went to China last summer, one neighbour family came in to pick up the mail and check on the house, another watered the garden and froze some of our bumper crop of zucchinis to give us when we returned, and another one came to the rescue when I needed a refill of some medication to be waiting at the house for us when we came home.
Love helps out. Love makes connections. Love builds a network of caring and sharing. And I love, love, love that we are part of that.