Staring

I’m staring at this page wondering what I’m going to write.  Not because I don’t have anything to say, but because I have so much to say. At least I think I do.

As a child I was quite gabby at least I was told so and yes, I was. I guess I still am. One of my classmates friends mother thought maybe a bit boisterous.

I’m just friendly and I seldom meet a stranger, but I came by it rightly.

My ex husband constantly reminded me that no one wanted to hear anything I had to say. So for a time, I had toned it down a good deal and maybe it needed doing. Perhaps it was true, but perhaps not.

I remember once after the divorce, I moved into this cute little house next door to an older couple. I would do the backyard fence thing ala “Home Improvement” with the old guy next door.  I think at the time he may have been a little intimidated by me since I looked like this:

Mom and I
Mom and I

I thought too, maybe he was a bit shy and not used to young ladies wanting to talk to him.  In any case it took awhile before he accepted that I was going to continue being neighborly and after awhile I think he looked forward to our chats, not to mention my company as well.

What did we talk about?  His yard mostly. Now retired, Mr. “R” had the most amazing green thumb and his front and back yards were absolutely gorgeous. He had flowers planted cyclically in such a way that when one died out another would take it’s place, so there was always a plethora of color tastefully and artfully placed to please the eye. Since my new little place needed work, I needed tips trying to get it to look like the showcase his was so I was constantly picking his brain.  I think he was flattered overall and after some time, he got to where he was comfortable conversing with me.

Besides perhaps being shy, I think Mr. “R” had a little bit of a snobby thing going too, but I ignored it and in time he got used to me.

At some point later, my dad came out for a visit and in no time at all he caught Mr. “R” outside and started yakking with him. I came up behind Dad and I saw a twinkle in his eye and a smile crept up on Mr. “R’s” face as he looked up at me and said, “Now, I see where you get it!”

I guess he wasn’t used to friendly folk, but I could tell he liked it.  He was my neighbor for 13 years.  I went back to the old place and caught the neighbor who bought my place at the mailbox and he said Mr. “R” had since passed a few years ago, his yard no longer the prize it had been but my old place looks much smarter.

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