Filling Her Shoes

2 years ago, when we bought the house from the Nix's, I knew I'd never be able to replace Carol's presence in Gail's life. They were next door neighbors and best buddies - walked their dogs together, shared recipes, gardened together, exchanged gossip, were both on the Board, had a glass of wine every single evening while watching Bill O'Reilly and all together lived out of each other's lives.

That's whose shoes I was filling. Our border, we were told, is the imaginary line between the tree and the cable post.

In comparison to Gail's old friend, you rarely, if ever, see me around on a week day, I have no seeds, plants, wine or assitance to offer, I wont know what's going on in your life unless you specifically tell me and I don't have dogs or grand-children - two things that we could have potentially shared stories over.

Also, I'm 30 or so years younger, left wing and of a country that's as strange to you as the deep South is to me.

And yet....

Last summer, Gail realized that I was in dire need of some gardening help. She became my go-to person for advice on all things green. She once called herself my "Surrogate Mother" and I was glad to have one. She gave me cucumbers from her garden and I brought her back souvenirs from our small vacations. I offered SK's printer-fixing skills (and how he hates when I pimp him out without permission) and she introduced me to other neighbors.

Our friendship developed.

Then we began a project together - newsletters to wake up our sleepy sub-division. She provides me with neighborhood news (from meeting people during her multiple dog walks each day), I write the content (not difficult when you have MS Publisher and ready-made templates) and she distributes the newsletters. With a small budget from the Board we have together published 7 newsletters to date.

Camaraderie.

A few weeks ago, there was a strange car parked in our drive-way. She alerted another neighbor and went right up to the man to ask who he was. I learnt about the incident later.

Then last Thursday, she left me this note in the mailbox, asking me to keep an eye out while she way away.

Trust.

This weekend, I spent more time looking out at her place than my own. I was determined to do my bit.

After 2 years (exactly 2 years on the 1st of October) I feel less like "the Indian couple who moved in next door" and more like a neighbor, possibly a friend.

And while I may never fill Carol's shoes, I will certainly try.