Having a bit of writers block, thank goodness there is a blog called Daily Prompt! This one is from a few days ago and really takes my interest.
Who are your neighbors? Are you friends with them, barely say hi, or avoid them altogether? Tell us a story — real or invented — about the people on the other side of your wall (or street, or farm, or… you get the point).
I live in London so do you really think I know my neighbours? All I know is that the people on one side get up early and slam the front door when they go out to work. The other side I don’t hear or see. It is quite sad. On the other hand, the house that I really call home, back up north in a small town called Carnforth, is where neighbors are everything. You know everything about next door, three doors down and even around the corner. I miss that.
My family house sits on a quiet estate, on the left a couple in their 70s who do not look their age. Our house bellows over their little bungalow and it’s garden is their gem. When they go away they entrust us to look after the garden, we collect their post and put it in to a neat pile on the stairs.When they return, we are given gifts for caring for their home, usually biscuits or cake. We both grow veg in ours gardens and give to ours neighbors generously.
Now the other side, the right side, holds a lot of memories and friends. Firstly the people who used to live in that house years ago. The Simons, the three young brothers ran riot in that house, and circles around me. We would have so much fun, playing for hours, our favorite summer game was to run through the water from the hosepipe. One of the boys, Nathan was not just my neighbor, he was my classmate and really good friend. Then suddenly he got really ill, the playing stopped and they moved across the street. In a few months I lost my neighbor and my friend. He was too young to die. I kept going around to my old neighbors and played with Nathans brothers, we sang Elvis songs and played UNO and Kirby till it went dark. A house never stays empty for long, we gain a new neighbor, this one an elderish lady and her adult daughter. Norma was a ex-teahcer, this was the best thing ever… I would go around more than twice a week to get help with my homework, we would bake cakes for each other, my dad mowed their lawn. Her daughter Judith, is the kindest person you would ever know. They are both like family. We help each other, look after one another. A few years ago Norma was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s it is strange to watch someone you went to help for as a child become a child herself, so distant and fragile. I do not think she would recognize me today. However after all these years she still knows my dad. I don’t think anyone has neighbors like ours, they are the best kind. It would be amazing to find some like them in London, someone I could trust , people we could call family.
I don’t think I have portrayed my story well, I could go so deep into why neighbours are important. They are the security of the street, they are there when you need them. And that’s just from one house.