A storm knocked the power out on our whole street for six hours, and instead of everyone retreating into their own dark houses, half the block ended up gathered on my porch by candlelight for reasons I still can't fully explain.
Wanda's garden used to be the best on the street, and this year it's mostly weeds and a few stubborn tomato plants. Watching it decline has taught me something about noticing change too slowly to do anything useful with it.
A stray water balloon meant for someone else caught me square in the back on a hot afternoon, and what followed was less an apology and more a negotiation I somehow lost.
I needed a ladder to clean the gutters and didn't own one tall enough, so I asked the Osei family, and what should have been a five minute exchange turned into an afternoon I didn't expect to enjoy as much as I did.
Wanda showed up at my door asking about a dinner invitation that never happened, and instead of correcting her right away I found myself going along with a memory that wasn't real, at least for a little while.
Wanda has opinions about my new fence and she is not shy about sharing every single one of them. A portrait of an eighty-something neighbour who says exactly what she thinks, whether you asked or not.