These are the people (published draft)

3 blocks south, 1 block west, 3 blocks home. Sometimes it takes 15 minutes, sometimes 45. Tonight, the dog and I spent a leisurely half hour wandering around to sniff and pee, confirming that his buddy Louie is indeed camping, and connecting with some of our human neighbors.

I came home carrying a head of cauliflower, a bag of shredded cheese, a pouch of smoothie mix, two Starbucks salads, and a black bean wrap. The lady on the corner has volunteered at the El Centro food bank for over 20 years. Her front porch is a secondary food pantry for the unsheltered “street inebriates” displaced from Triangle Park after the big tree came down–and occasionally for random people (like me) who look like we might eat organic vegetarian stuff.

Juggling her generous gifts and a leash, we didn’t make it far before we ran into another neighbor from around the corner. She was still in her work uniform, walking her daughter’s sweet little dog. Unfortunately, my dog has decided that her dog’s testicles are a problem, so they can no longer romp in the parking strip. After I gathered my dropped groceries, we continued for another block before a group of cyclists passed us as they leisurely pedaled uphill on the greenway. One guy pumped is fist in the air, chanting “No bag! No bag! Woo!”, then mused to his cycling partner about how it would be hard to find my house keys when I got home.

I didn’t say anything about how I leave the door unlocked a lot of the time. Our neighbors have our backs.