She's Proud

 

I love my little neighborhood.  And my immediate neighbors.  A few days ago, I noticed that the one directly across the street had a u-haul moving van and some extra cars in front of it.  One of them was parked in the street (which is narrow).  I walked over there and encountered a woman smoking on the front porch.  I asked if J was home and she went in to get her.  I told J that I was sorry to see her leave - she'd been a nice neighbor to have - and that whoever is parked on the street was welcome to use the other half of my parking pad.  Tears welled up in her eyes as she told me that she didn't want to leave, but had been told she had to be out by 4pm that day.  The landlord, for whatever reason, decided not to renew her lease, but didn't tell her until the day it was up.

MY house couldn't be packed up that quickly, and she'd been in that house just a slightly shorter time than I'd been in mine. After a thinking for a moment, I changed my plan for the day and pitched in.  We boxed and hauled all day.  At 4 she went and dropped off the keys, then came back and we boxed and hauled some more.  It was just us women - me, her, her mom and her best friend - but we got it DONE!  I was a hot, sweaty mess, but I needed to go see my own mother, so I excused myself with a hug for my friend, and left to see Mom.

She was doing pretty well that day.  My brother was sitting with her when I arrived, which was a surprise - he usually visits earlier in the day and I was running very late.  I apologized to her for how late I was and explained what was going on and why I was delayed.

Her eyes brightened and she said "That's why I'm so proud of you!  You just pitch in whenever you see someone who needs your help."

My heart stopped for a second and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.  And I simply said "Thank you."  

Even now, at the ripe old age of 61, it still means a lot when a parent says they're proud of you.  I guess that's something you never outgrow.

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