It’s less than a week away from Christmas and we're not even wearing jackets but I don’t mind because that bright little home of ours is fresh with new beginning. A lazy warmth breathes across my ever-cautious sun screened hands as I turn the pages of my book. Bean picks the best Ivy leaves off of the fence and hands them all to me but not before inspecting them closely and kissing each one for good measure.
My clothes are plain today. My two front teeth are still slightly crooked and I am not wearing a stitch of makeup but I allow myself to feel beautiful. I have lost the urge to stir up apprehension.
I look up and smile at the little old man riding by on his bicycle. He is wearing a tailored brown suit, as though he has stepped right out of a 1950s issue of LIFE. He sees me and tips his hat, then rings his bell for Bean. She waves energetically, pure delight in her smile. I silently hope that he has a sweet, strong wife to go home to.
Restful moments pass and the lady caddy corner to us storms out of her house; her great, soft body poised for battle. The ground rumbles beneath her as she turns back to the shadowy figure in the doorway and yells emphatically, “Because I can’t do dis no more!” Her shoulders deflate; exhausted, she bounds for the dark blue blazer waiting expectantly in the driveway. As the blazer veers out of sight you can almost see the tiny off-white house sigh with relief in her absence. Or maybe it’s just the wind swaying the trees.
The other white folks in town think we should have chosen a better neighborhood. We have the resources; there really is no excuse to be slumming it on the west side of the river, they tell us. Our new friends are nervous to drive to this side of town to share beer and conversation. Instead, we are always invited out. But as I sit here, plain-clothed and still, I see my friendly, hard-working neighbor raking leaves on his day off. His large work truck blocks a section of our house from the street, imitating a sense of security. There are children playing in the road and my daughter has struck up a charming friendship with the neighbor’s dog. We like it here. We don’t mind being the minority for once.
