As I stared down the drive from the house I once lived in,
there they stood.
We were never close.
We had nothing in common.
While the woman on the left was nice “enough”, the woman on the right (the “Christian" one) would never wave back when I drove by, and that bothered me.
If one person waves to another, how difficult is it to lift up your hand and reciprocate?
When I left, I did not tell the neighbors.
Over time, I would imagine they figured things out on their own,
however, I doubt they know the entire story.
I am sure their imaginations created whatever they wanted the story to be.
Normally, when I drop the kids off, the long driveway full of houses is quiet.
Just as when I lived there, everyone keeps to themselves.
On this particular day, however, when I dropped off my oldest son,
the two neighbors below were outside talking.
As I reentered my car, I could see them staring up at me, full of anger and judgement.
How I loathed the fact that I had to drive past them.
That part of me that has still not completely let go of some of the paranoia that comes with making this kind of life-changing decision ………..wondered what they were thinking and saying.
They did not know me before. They do not know me now.
Having no expectations, I put the car into drive,
and slowly coasted my way down the hill.
Surprisingly, they both waved.
Even the woman on the right.
“Huh,” I thought, as I slowly drove past.
They had both been left by their husbands, one way or the other.
Their children, grown up and out of the nest, they looked swallowed up by their lives.
Maybe, what I thought was anger and judgement on their faces, was something else, altogether.
And, maybe, it had nothing to do with ME.
As I left them in my rear view mirror, I continued to drive forward, into my life,
leaving them behind in their giant, lonely houses.