GIFTS AND OTHER GIFTS.

I am a born and partially raised, Hoosier. We did move quite a few times during my childhood in Indiana, and I have several distinct memories of being welcomed to our new neighborhoods. I remember people coming over to introduce themselves, some even came bearing gifts in the form of baked goods.

    This was typical to me, it’s what I knew. To me, this was just how neighbors’ treat each other. Moving north, out of Indiana, was kind of a culture shock, for not only me as a young teen, but also my mom. No one came over to introduce themselves in our new neighborhood, no one brought carrot cake or banana bread. It was just, different, and lonely.

 

When I was around 38 years old, my husband and I purchased a home next to a golf course, out in the country, in a lake community.  One day I noticed a new family was moving in across the street. I gave them a few days to settle in before I decided to go introduce myself. I knocked on the door, and a man not much younger than me, opened the door a hair and peeked out at me.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Hello, I’m Kelly, my husband Todd and I live across the street from you.”

The man looked at me puzzled.  “I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!” I said cheerfully.

The man was still looking at me puzzled, and muttered out an “oh, okay, thank you”, as his door quietly shut. After that, I gave up on the notion of neighbors welcoming neighbors. I stuck to myself.

Fast forward to the present. A lady knocked on my door the other day, bearing gifts - a homemade loaf of zuchinni bread. She was shy and greeted me with a "hello maam, seen you was new to the neighborhood".

I thought it strange, and unusual, and I did not know exactly how to receive this gift. Ummm..she doesn't know me and I dont know her, so whats this all about?

I took the bread from her and thanked her, how confused I must have looked! She never looked up at me, and there was this awkward moment of silence in which i thought "kelly what is wrong with you? This is like old times, this is good!". But I never invited her in. 

As she turned to make her way back down the driveway, she looked back and said "it ain't laced or nuthin, it's my momma's recipe."

I laughed and told her if it had been laced i knew where she lived. She laughed as she headed off. 

Truth is though, I did not know where she lived, nor did I ask for her name. Oh my God? Had I become the man who moved in across the street from me years ago? The man who thought it so strange that I would come and introduce myself that he could't or wouldn't open his door more than a hair?

Zuchinni Lady, I will find you, and I will ask for your name and apologize as I shake your hand. I will invite you in for coffee, and maybe bake you something, if you could just find it in your heart to give this neighbor, a second chance !