“What are you building?” a voice asked from … somewhere.
Did I really hear a voice? Because I was just wondering the same thing. What am I building? Maybe that voice is in my head.
“Looks like a lot of work.”
No, it’s real. It’s coming from the other side of our back fence.
We share fences with three neighbors. The neighbors on our left and right are part of our daily life. We wave in passing, are vaguely aware of each other’s comings and goings, chitchat about the grass browning out in August, and commiserate about the cold while shoveling out after blizzards in February. We don’t just share a fence. We share the experience of life on the same street.
Our third set of neighbors, on the other side of our back fence (or are we on the other side of theirs?), live on a different street. They might as well be in a different town. Or a different world. We’ve lived here for six years, and somehow we’d never met. I’d never even seen him before.
We got to talking.
His name is George. Last night, he texted us wondering if their new cat had slipped under the fence. He let us know later when Pip was home safe and sound.
Turns out, George is very nice. Even if he does live on another street.
