Shaun Groves
I call the alcove where I live the cul-de-sac. The commune that is Brody‘s street (and my sister-in-law’s), the circle of road one street over from ours? That’s called the cult-de-sac. Got that straight? All right then, moving on.
We and the Redneck Neighbor are staying put in our cul-de-sac but the two homes between us are for sale. This means two little girls Gabriella (age 6) plays with and one little boy I play with (he’s ten) every day are moving. And that has me thinking about Tracy.
Tracy lived next door to me. She was the kind of girl more at home making mud pies and building forts than putting ribbons in a Barbie’s hair. Our clubhouse was made out of thorny bushes on the side of my house. It was called “Rosebud Tree House” and we wore matching hooded sweatshirts with our names ironed onto the backs by her mom. We ran a detective agency and snooped on neighbors. We had snack at my house or hers every afternoon. She was my first kiss. It was wet and gross. She thought so too. And we couldn’t figure out why the grown-ups on Dallas wanted to do that so often.
We promised we’d never kiss anybody else and if we had to get married when we got old we’d marry each other.
Then she moved to Colorado Springs. I was seven I think, and devastated. She sent pictures of Pike’s Peak and elk and a sunset over her neighborhood and I hoped she’d move back and that, if she didn’t, another friend would move in next door. A couple with full-grown kids showed up in a moving truck eventually and still live there today.
Tracy came back to town in the eighth grade but we were never close again. We outgrew the clubhouse and the detective business and kissed other people.
I wonder sometimes about Tracy, about what marks she left on my personality and what different turns I might have taken in life had she always lived next door.
I don’t think my kids are as close to their neighbors as Tracy and I were but the For Sale signs and the coming and going of realtors and perspectives buyers have created some confusion for them. “Why is Jordan moving? Is he getting a littler house?” Gresham asked this morning.
“No, buddy,” I explained, “people don’t just move when they need a smaller house. Sometimes they get new jobs or just want to live somewhere different…like Colorado.”
Grovesfan says:
I find myself thinking about the kids I hung out with growing up too. Mostly boys as I was (and still am!) a huge “tomboy.” Eric, the one I spent hours with playing “war” and football. Fishing and water skiing with Terry, Jeff and Jay. I can’t tell you where any of them are today, but the memories are still great.
Beth
Aims says:
I never had neighbors when I was growing up. I never had neighbors when I was little and if we did they were more than likely girls that didn’t get wrestling with the dog and climbing trees like I did. I was one of those kids that to show my affection for the guys I liked I’d beat them up on the playground at school. Yes I got in a lot of trouble as a child.
Melinda says:
I had some really great friends when I was in 4th-8th grade, but mostly my family moved a lot so I never really had those kind of friends. As for my own children their are very few children I allow my own to play with in my “ghetto” neighborhood. Although my daughter holds backyard Bible Studies and “Tent Revivals”. All the kids call her Precha Girl.
How does your wife feel about the kissing story? I think I must be a little insecure, because whenever my husband talks about the girl he would play “house” with growing up it makes me sad, because I will never know him like that.
Steven says:
You should take cul de sac openings to eBay. Seems to me those would be prime pieces of real estate with the great community group ya’ll got going there.