Charlotte County Florida Weekly

Welcome to the neighborhood




 

 

I just bought my first house, and I wanted to make a good impression on my neighbors. But I always seem to be getting myself in trouble.

Last week, my friend Barb came to visit. She and her husband spend half their year up north and the other half down here. When she’s in town, we like to get together to talk books and writing. We happened to be deep in one of those conversations, sitting in my new yard, when my neighbor pulled into his driveway. I gave him a shy little wave. He waved back, then came over to introduce himself.

“I’m Dave,” he said, shaking my hand.

“I’m Artis. And this is my friend Barb.”

David shook Barb’s hand. “So, when did you guys move in?”

 

 

I laughed. “No, it’s just me. Barb is only visiting.”

“OK,” he said. Then, “I should take you over to meet the head of the homeowners association.”

I turned to Barb. “Want to tag along?”

The three of us tromped across the street to an immaculate old home with the kind of landscaping you’d kill for. A woman came to the door, nicely dressed, polite, firm. She and her husband,

Dave said, were both attorneys. He introduced me and I introduced Barb and the head of the homeowners association asked, “When did you two buy the place?”

I looked at Barb then back at the woman. Wait a minute. Did she think–?

“No, just me,” I said. “Barb’s only a friend.”

 

 

The woman looked between us then nodded her head like, “If you say so.”

Dave headed back to his house and I gave the woman my contact information for the neighborhood list. Barb and I said our goodbyes then set off down the street back to my house. In my driveway, we crossed paths with another neighbor, this time a young man.

“How you doing?” he said, extending his hand to each of us.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking it.

By now, I already knew what was coming. I knew I needed to introduce Barb. I knew what this new neighbor was going to say.

“This is my friend Barb,” I said.

He nodded. “You two moving in?”

“No,” I said firmly. “Just. Me.”

“Sure,” he said. He gave me a warm, genuine, your-personal-life-is-yourbusiness smile. “See you guys around.”

Back in our original seats in my new front yard, I looked at Barb. “Do you realize that all my neighbors think we’re together?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “What can you do?”

“But seriously,” I said. I touched the hem of my sweatshirt and smoothed out my ponytail. “What does this say about me?”

Barb just laughed.

It was only later, after she left and I was alone in the house, straightening the kitchen before bed, that it occurred to me it doesn’t matter what it says about me. It matters what it says about my neighbors. Each of them seemed welcoming and happy to have me in the neighborhood — no matter what my personal circumstances might be.

And that, I believe, is all that’s truly important. ¦

— Artis Henderson is the author of “Unremarried Widow” published by Simon and Schuster.


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