I grew up with good neighbors on all sides of us and up and down the whole block mostly. Then, when I got into my first house, the neighbors on one side were amazing—the other side? not so much. But the one set of next door neighbors made up the difference honestly. When my mom died, the neighbors were so good that I could leave a key at their house just in case I locked myself out (my mom used to be the keeper of my emergency keys). I remember the wife hugging me when I was crying telling her why I needed to even ask for such a big favor. Then, when I moved states, I could never have planned on finding the best cul de sac on the planet to raise my sweet children at. Such wonderful friendships and memories made with such caring, supportive, mindful people. What a village we had. After that era, we had one bad set of downstairs neighbors, just one. They traumatized my children with being overbearing and judgmental, but that was a short time, and we had follow up neighbors who I cannot even remember their names they were so quiet. And now? Our downstairs neighbors are buddies with my oldest—and I can keep a key at their house for in case we lock ourselves out. So what I am essentially trying to say is I am thankful for a lifetime of good neighbors who have blessed and continue to bless my life. I just hope I am able to be as good a neighbor as they have been to me.
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