Wednesday, June 25, 2008
It is in a small street of a middle-class suburban neighborhood where in summer you can see well-maintained lawns, mature trees, people in shorts walking or biking and happy children playing. Everyone seems to enjoy the short season of warm days adorned by full bloomed flowers and cooled by a refreshing and fragrant breeze from newly mowed grass and wild prairie flowers. There is nothing special in this neighborhood where most houses were built in the mid-1970s but I feel at home here. We do not know the names of our neighbors. Waving, smiling and polite how-are-yous are the only interactions we have had. However, most communication is non-verbal. The loud hum of a neighbor's lawn mower signals that we have to mow our lawn. The aroma of grilled meat in early evening has a soothing effect of primal carnivorous desires that we shared. The sound of car engines is a reliable clue to get up in the morning and announcement that our neighbor is back home. We cannot help but feel sad when we see a for sale sign but feel elated when a sold sticker is placed over it. Our hearts are delighted by the thought of living in such a desirable place. Wildlife such as brown squirrels, grey bunnies, multi-colored migratory birds, geese from a nearby pond, well-fed dogs and occasional stray cats are also a sight and sound here. Everyone seems to be content sharing this small space.