The 3 Most Important Words in Real Estate: Neighbors, Neighbors, Neighbors!

It was a great day today. The family across the street moved away, including my beloved goddaughter and her two younger sisters.  Their house, once filled with laughter and chaos, is now silent. And dark.

Are you confused yet?

OK, I'll admit it. I haven't told you the whole story. Yes, they've left, but only temporarily. They're renovating their house, and will be back in seven months.  Then I hope they'll be here forever. And ever.

For years, the family of five has shared one bathroom sink.  Need I say more about why they needed to undertake some improvements?

A few months ago, they broke the news that they were moving to a larger house, perhaps in a neighboring town.  That was just minutes after someone had told me that it looked like I had shingles.  Talk about a 1-2 punch.  I went up to my room and cried, for 4 minutes, before heading to the ER so someone could check out the fire-red, blistering rash that had taken over my back.

When my neighbors announced that they'd decided to stay, my whole world brightened.  I knew that, after the renovation hiatus, four-square games would resume in the street, dark and stormy cocktails would once again flow on Friday evenings (followed by break dancing, of course), carols would be sung by the creche on Christmas eve, and life would once again be full of ordinary moments that would make life extraordinary.

My first encounter with neighborly bliss took place when I was five years old.  My sister and I decided (because we had nothing better to do on a snowy Wisconsin afternoon) to walk up the street to visit a woman who lived in a pink house. While we were there, the woman turned wash cloths into elephants.  I thought she was magical. And I remember her being very gentle and kind.

No kids ever came to our house to visit my mom. She couldn't boil water, and even if she could, she would've mixed it with bourbon.  Then sipped it all evening.

Duncan and I haven't always had great neighbors, however.  One evening just a few months after we were married, we were pulling into the parking lot behind our apartment, and there, with her face pressed up against our bedroom window, was our next-door neighbor. She could've chosen the kitchen window, but, no, that obviously didn't interest her.  She was in pursuit of the prurient, and we caught her red-handed. She slithered away and went inside to join her adult son who played "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" at full volume 24/7. The next morning I woke up to an imprint of her nose and mouth staring at me from the window.  No amount of Windex can ever erase that memory.

Life is so short. It passes so quickly. We grow up, many of us get married and have children, and then we settle into our "Route 66 years."   If we are fortunate, we get to share some, if not many, of those years living next to great neighbors. People with a treasured sense of community who watch out for us and encourage us to live purposely, with wild abandon (remember the break dancing), and deliberate a joy.

Next time you have the chance, do something nice for one of your neighbors. Take in their trash cans. Bring them some homemade cookies.  Offer to babysit.

Someday, your neighbors may be gone.  Even if only temporarily.