And just like that, they were gone.
Some weird kind of sadness has been pressing down on me for the last few days, and I couldn't figure it out for the life of me. This morning as I was scrolling through Facebook memories, I found the answer: today, three years ago, was the day my most loved neighbors moved away. Below are my words on that very hard day.
June 9th, 2020:
And just like that, they were gone.
An unfamiliar and uninvited quiet settles over Cedar Ridge. We will always be friends, but it was a privilege and joy to be neighbors. To walk over in pajamas for coffee and mom talk over Paw Patrol and sibling fights. To turn from my work and find Bo at my side with a fist full of flowers and a sloppy sweet kiss at the ready. To listen to the girls giggle and chatter as they look up at Lydia, the big teenager next door. To hear the delight of all four as they roll through the snow in my yard, leaving angels and adorable footprints behind them. To watch each child learn to ride a bike in front of my kitchen window while I cooked dinner for my nearly grown family. To know that I can always borrow flour or milk or curry powder or a bandaid or an ear. To walk into their house without knocking when my life is falling apart and get a long heartfelt hug from little Louisa, who always knows just what you need. To answer all of the deep and profound questions of Anella’s thirsty and beautiful mind. To answer the faint knock of little knuckles on my door and hear, “Um, um, Aaaaaaana, do you remember when I helped you in the shop? Um um...I could help you in the shop today...?”
It will all go quiet. The silence will be much too loud. Change is the way of life, and I will adjust, but sometimes the way of life is hard. I think I’m going to need one of Lou's amazing hugs to get me through it.
