PTSD

With the exception of the lady who peers into our windows and yells at us for not coming to her terrible garage sales, we have the best neighbors.

When we moved into our house, it was known as the rainbow house, because of a conspicuous pastel rainbow painted over the front door. Our first night, our across the street neighbors, Joe and Natalie, came over and said, "You have to paint that thing, NOW!" We wanted to get rid of the rainbow, but you see. When we closed on the house, the people who owned it kind of freaked out and refused to give us the key, sucking us and several local banks into a cycle of crazy, that ended in the couple demanding that the closing money be given to them in cash. The couple's bank finally agreed that okay, they could come withdraw the money at 9pm on a Friday night and kept the bank open just for them. But, the couple never showed up to withdraw the money and we never got our key. So, on move in day, we hired a lock smith to drill our locks and we busted into our new home. All of this and the couple we bought the house from, lives four houses away. The moving day ended with one of the former owners of the house coming over, demanding to be let in and when I refused she collapsed sobbing on my shoulder. So, naturally, after breaking and entering into our new house and the whole crying thing, we didn't want to aggravate the situation further by painting over their carefully cultivated pastel rainbow.

We explained all of this to Joe and Natalie, our neighbors, as we sipped wine in our new house. When we were done, Natalie said, "So, what's your point?" And at 10:45pm, we drove a car onto the lawn and turned on the headlights. Natalie and Joe drug over their ladder and a paint brush and we each took turns painting away the rainbow. This is the kind of neighbors they are.

A week ago, on Thursday. Joe and Natalie's son was in a car accident and they flew down to Georgia to be with him. This year has been tough for them. Natalie's mom has been fighting a losing a battle to breast cancer. Joe is a pastor of a local church and the recession has been hitting all churches pretty hard. This has given Dave and I a little bit of PTSD. Because our 2007, was a lot like this. A month after Dave's dad died of cancer, two of my sisters ( I have four total) were in a devastating car accident. One sister spent weeks in the hospital and later, months at our home, learning to walk again. Through it all, our neighbors were our best support and ally. They let us borrow a bed, plied us with booze and friendship and Natalie even gave me advice on how to handle suddenly having an 18-year-old in my home. Tip #1: Don't make eye contact, back away slowly.

So, I hope and pray that the same grace, love and humor that they have extended to us will be extended to them. And all I can do is take their dog on walks, try and make sure their car doesn't fight other cats in the neighborhood and stock their shelves with wine.