arrived wearing a ruffly frock the color of watermelon sorbet. she reached her flowering arm across the fence in an accidental handshake of friendship.
on her behalf, i accept that you will most probably never be the neighbor i wish for (like-minded, fun, smart with good boundaries). on her behalf, i forgive you for the nights you leave your dog tethered outside in the frigid cold. i forgive the monstrosity of a deck you built off of your second story that obliterates any notion of privacy for me. i forgive that you are done with your children right around 5pm and send them outdoors with their outdoor voices at the exact same time i am attempting to forget the world through sunshine, quiet, a good book and a glass of wine.
even though you did not offer this gift of grace to me, she has a way of knowing which way to grow. without your permission, she extended loveliness through the fence. and i accepted.
and with this grace, i am grateful that your children seem happy and healthy (although i must say that if you tether them outside in the frigid cold, i am obligated by law to intervene). and i am grateful for the inspiration your deck gave to plant the most stunning purple crepe myrtle that will one day provide a friendly blooming screen of separateness between us. and i open my heart to make room that your life is not required to consider mine but i will consider yours as precious and beautiful and flawed as mine.