In these parts, houses are separated by just a driveway; thus, neighbors notice visitors, comings and goings. After an early morning trip to bring recyclables to the curb and a brief discussion with my neighbor walking her dog, I'm thinking about how lucky I am.
We began with pleasantries about the hot-humid weather and how she was feeling after a recent health scare. Then, she said wistfully, "I saw the kids writing with chalk on your driveway the other day when it was so hot you could cook an egg on it. I realized they are getting bigger, and probably didn't have too many summers left to enjoy those sorts of things. They seemed so happy to have found a spot of shade and celebrate summer. You are so lucky and I am a bit jealous, as I missed all those years when my grands were growing up so far away."
I acknowledged that I am lucky and we parted ways; yet, her words lingered as I thought about luck and the tangled path that brought me to those chalk drawings. I also thought about all those things I am lucky for that happen beyond my driveway like the long strolls for greasy hamburgers and ice cream. I thought about the coffee filter dresses and endless pictures as well as birthdays with little people who are indeed getting bigger. I smiled thinking she was right. I am lucky.
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