Neighborly

From my perch up in our office loft I stare out the window that overlooks our front yard and can't help but notice the comings and goings of my neighbors. I guess, unwittingly, I am the neighborhood busybody. Since my busy street is on a bus line there are a number of characters who pass by my house daily. Truth be told, I worry about them if I don't see them for a few days.

There's "Sundress Lady" who wears thin, brightly colored cotton sundresses and walks with an osteoporadic stoop that belies her years. She has the dull skin and gaunt frame of someone who prefers to nourish her body with drugs rather than food. Then there's "Crazy Box Guy" who can always be found wandering around the corner bus stop at 1:30 in the afternoon. With a file box tucked under one arm, he curls his free hand into a fist and pounds at the sky while cursing his enemies, real or imagined.

And then there's "Santa"...

I've mentioned my quirky neighbor Santa in a previous post. I see him no less than twice per day as he makes his way to and from one of the many bus stops that line our street. I always make it a point to wave and call out "hello" to him, even if he doesn't always return my greeting. Santa is quite a mystery to me as I can never quite place a pattern on his comings and goings. He leaves his house at all different times and never sits at the same bus stop twice. Some days I've seen him waiting for the bus for as long as two hours yet I've never actually seen him board a bus. I assume he has a job somewhere as he carries a lunch thermos and sometimes wears what appears to be a uniform. Other days find him wearing a ratty t-shirt and shorts. I can't imagine what type of job he's reporting to in that attire, but the lunch pail lends credibility to the fact that he's going somewhere that involves a lunch break.

While backing out of our driveway this morning I noticed someone stopped dead on the sidewalk, as if I'd cut off their walking path with my car. Embarrassed, I glanced over and saw that it was Santa and he was staring at me with a very level gaze.

"Hey there, how are you doing?" I called out, all friendly-like.

His rheumy eyes continued to stare at me as if he found it difficult to focus. Finally, in his deep east Texas drawl he spoke.

"Ah been good. It's a mah-ty nice da-ay. Say...Ah got sumpin' fer ya. It's fer the new addition to yer household."

For one confused moment I thought he was referring to the sunroom addition that we built last year. I was thinking that he intended to gift us with a potted plant, or something. Then I realized that he meant the baby.

"Well, wow!" I called out. "That's incredibly nice of you!"

"Ahhhh, ain' nuthin' to it. Ah, kind of found it, actually. Yew see, it has to do with some property that was stolen and then replaced. Ah cleaned it up good and got it workin'...yew see, some property was stolen but it didn't cost hardly nuthin' to fix it up...it'll be somethin' for your little baby to learn with over the years."

Stolen property? Cleaned up? What on earth...

"Well it's wonderful of you to think of us. I can hardly wait to see it."

"Okay now, well...yew just holler at me next time yer home and Ah'll bring it on over."

As unusual as the gift might turn out to be, I am touched. Unbeknownst to me, all this time we've been keeping tabs on Santa, he's been keeping tabs on us as well. In thinking about it, I realize now that his front window looks directly up into our nursery. He's probably seen me puttering around up there--moving a picture here, placing a lamp there, and dreaming of our little baby. Somewhere along the line, I guess he got caught up in the dream too.