Loving my crooked neighbors with my own crooked heart
DAMN. THE. LUCK. I wasn't due to land back in San Francisco until about 10pm, so was doomed to a very rushed fast food airport dinner, at best. I returned the call, having to decline the invite, or so I thought.
"Well," my neighbor cheerily replied, "I'll be up all night working on a document for work, so when you get home come on over for a lamb sandwich if you want." I practically teared up at the relief of not having to stuff a very unappetizing Burger King meal into my mouth during my thirty minute layover.
So at 10:30 my weary body climbed the stairs of their porch and I knocked on the door. The house still smelled like lamb, and five minutes later I had sunk down on the couch, lamb sandwich and glass of red wine in hand. My neighbor took a much needed work break, and flipped the TV to a recorded episode of the Colbert Report, and we chatted while I ate, relaxed and happy.
I don't remember the exact context, but somewhere in the show there was a quote about "loving your crooked neighbors with your own crooked heart". That night, as with many of the nights of the last year living here, I felt so grateful for the block that I moved onto, and the wonderful friends I have found in my neighbors. To be welcomed in, taken care of after a day of weary travel, was indescribably valuable to me that night. And this was not an unusual occurrence around here - this is just how we roll. We really do love and take care of each other on this block.
It's awesome to feel so at home at home.