This summer our aging next door neighbors had their two grand daughters come and stay for over two months. The oldest girl was the same age as my son, so by the end of their first day, a new friendship was quickly budding. As with most people who live in populated neighborhoods, most activities that occurred in our yard, they’re privy to them. If we were barbecuing, running through the sprinkler, eating watermelon on the deck or just picking weeds, the girl next door was quickly asking if she could join us. At first her attendance was welcome. My son and she had fun and it was refreshing to see them play.

As the days passed it seemed she was over at our house more and more. Soon she was shouting from her deck, calling to ask if she could come over first thing in the morning. Often it was so early we were all still asleep. Many nights after I had put my son to bed, she would be calling him, tempting him to come to his window to talk with her. More than a few times I had to strictly enforce it was bed time and ask her to go inside.

With her visiting more and more, she began having lunches here, then staying for dinner, then both. I know…what was I doing? But I felt bad for her…young, full of energy and just wanting so much to play. Her grandparents were quite elderly and they had her one year-old-sister to also look after, so I felt it was easier to have her here. But as she became more comfortable in our house, the guest quickly became the new tenant.

Dozens of times we took her to the public pool with us, the playground, even the video store. Any time we would go for a walk, she was outside begging to come along. It was difficult to say no when both her and my son were pleading. My heart gave in and I would usually say okay.

It was trying at times as her manners were different that ours. Our “rules of the house” were foreign to her and her insatiable curiosity had her going in places off limits to my kids. For the first few weeks it seemed I was disciplining her more than my own children as she seemed to run wild with no control or common sense. If I had play dates with my son’s others friends, she would invite herself. More than a few times she just came in the house without ringing the bell. At meals times she had no problem demanding her particular preferences.

My closest girlfriend noticed her behavior and commented on her practically living at our house. I had to admit I had let it go a little too far, but my son was now calling her his best friend, including her in all our activities and forcing me to put a tent in the living room so they could have pretend sleepovers in the middle of the afternoon.

Through all of this I only ever saw her grandparents over the fence. They never came by, never called or knocked on the door even after she’d been here for more then eight hours. They never offered to have my son over, which I was fine with, but they never seemed to check up on where their granddaughter had gone. By the end of the summer she was coming to the grocery store with us, her wet bathing suit was being washed at our house and her name had even been written on one of our plastic dinner mats. She was wearing an extra pair of my son’s shoes because the strap on her sandals had broke, and one night after a full day in the pool I even sent her home wearing a pair of his sweats and an old t-shirt.

Despite the raised eyebrows from my friends she was growing on me. Over time she was adjusting to our rules and behaving better than my own child. She was fitting in, going with the flow of our house and I was acting as though I had three children instead of two. She became a fixture in our lives and plans were being made that automatically included her.

When an unfamiliar car was parked outside their house one morning and she had not arrived, I knew the day had come. Her parents were here and I knew she would be going home soon. As we played outside as we always did she came running to me, arms wide and hugged me with all her delight. She stood holding my hand as I met her parents and she told them all about us and the adventures we had shared.

Her leaving was hard to explain to my son. He kept asking her to stay, telling her to come into our house and saying he understood that she lived in a different town, but we could all tell he really didn’t. To make it easy the day she left, I bought her a gift and walked over to their house so my son could give it to her. It was to help him to sort out the sadness he was feeling of her leaving and to have something between them that they could remember until next summer.

As we stood on the front porch ringing the doorbell I could hear the young baby inside. She was squealing and calling out my son’s name as he called to her. We waited and as the minutes passed, no one opened the door. I began knocking, calling louder, yet could hear nothing but the one-year-old talking gleefully inside. I quickly became worried and began banging on the door, shouting out the grandmother’s and little girl’s name. There was no response, just the baby happily babbling to us through the walls. I ran back to my house calling over the fence in case everyone was in the back yard, but no one was there. Again I pounded on the front door, rattling the handle and shouting, convinced the grandmother was somehow hurt inside. Back in my own house I began calling the police, I was sure something was wrong. My husband stopped me, pulling away the phone. “Don’t start any trouble” he said, “they probably just don’t want to answer the door.”

Unable to believe his explanation, I went back over there and walked around the house, through their gate and up onto their back deck. I could hear the baby answering me as I called out her name and the others who lived in the house. I turned the knob to the back door and walked inside, only to find the little girls’ mother, sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. I was shocked, surprised and furious! I angrily asked her why she didn’t answer the door and she said she didn’t hear me, I told her that was impossible since I heard the baby and half the neighborhood could hear me. Then she said she didn’t want to open the door to a stranger and I rudely replied that few strangers know the names of everyone in the house. She then said it wasn’t her house so she didn’t want to open the door. Appalled and livid I told her I was ready to call the police for fear the grandmother had fallen, had a heart attack or stroke. Her final comment was simply a shrug of her shoulders. She didn’t really care.

Practically in tears I returned home. I was so upset that someone could be so oblivious, so rude, so blatantly unconcerned. My son was confused from our exchange and heartbroken that he did not get to deliver his gift. Sadly, children sometimes see us at our less than ideal moments and it took a lot of explaining from me as to why his best friend’s mother would not open the door. It was hard to clarify her actions and present them in a way he could understand for I was having trouble understanding them myself. The heated exchange had created tension for everyone. The father in the end came by with his daughter so the two kids could say good bye. The mother was already waiting in the car as the girl asked if she could stay, clung to me and made a scene as her father had to pull her away. I felt upset, angry and in a silly way protective of the precocious girl who had been with me for almost 9 weeks. When they drove away, I did cry. Maybe it was out of frustration, disbelief and a bit of sadness that that little child, who so many had said to send home, had felt joy and happiness here. Now that she was gone, I didn’t want her to go.

Even writing this tugs at my heart strings. She was a good kid who just wanted love and personal interaction. She needed a bit of guidance, but her heart was genuine. The cold composure and aloofness of her mother seemed to explain her desire to be around fun and laughter and her sadness at leaving.

In hindsight, had something been wrong with her grandmother or had an emergency occurred, we as neighbors were completely unprepared. It got me thinking that even though we live next door to people, we seldom know anything about them. In turn, they probably know nothing about us. On the 28th of September, national good neighbor day will be celebrated across the country. Its intent is to build better relationships with neighbors and in turn create a stronger connection for the community.

Here are some suggestions for celebrating the day:
•    Help your neighbors in some way.
•    Offer a smile and friendly hello to your neighbor
•    Have your neighbor over for a meal
•    Hold a block party
•    Offer to share recycling boxes, compost or even lawn sprinklers.
•    Give them your phone number in case of emergency.

Many do take the time to get to know our neighbors, but often work, lifestyle and the desire for privacy prevents us from connecting with those who only live a short, stones throw away. The best thing we can do is acknowledge and befriend our neighbors even in the smallest of ways. Each of us is a huge billboard for our kids and they are perfect mirrors of our own behavior.  How we are to the world is how our kids are, and our attitudes very quickly become their attitudes. Caring, respectful and friendly attitudes towards ones’ neighbors is a good skill to pass onto them for when they grow up and have neighbors of their own.

Standing on my soapbox,

JB