A Good Neighbor.

Note:

I had the pleasure of taking and finishing a non-fiction writing course through Gotham Writers School in New York this Winter. This piece is my last assignment and I am excited to share it with you. Also, I have created a plan to once again share a new blog every Tuesday. What will these blogs be about you ask?? You will just have to wait and see.

Thank you for reading:)

The art of finding a good neighbour is a hard task and is often completely out of our own hands. This is particularly true in our neighbourhood, as we live in an area that is hit or miss for safety, with one block of townhouses is relatively safe but just across the field a hop or a skip away could be a drug dealer or a meth house.

When our previous neighbours decided to move out, I held my breath for almost the whole time their unit was vacant…. The saying of ‘you don’t know what you got till its gone” was not true in this case, I knew what I had!

After a few weeks a moving van pulled in and our new sweet, older new occupant got out. Linda is a quiet and compassionate older women who was married, had older children who visited but didn’t live with them and two white fur-babies who we would soon love in the coming years. Always offering a smile and conversation when we saw her outside, I finally let go of my breath and started to relax and trust that in case of an emergency or need we could count on Linda’s support.

Shortly after they moved in, we accidentally tested this theory…

You see, it was a very cold winter evening when I decided that to cheer us up, I would attempt to make chicken wings from scratch in the oven. It all started out very well, I put olive oil on each little plucked wing spreading them lovingly and evenly on the pan and then carefully selecting the right seasoning. After this I placed them in the oven at what I was sure was the perfect temperature and I left the kitchen and promptly got distracted by my child.

After a few minutes of being distracted, I started to hear sizzling and raced back into the kitchen where there was smoke pouring out of the top of the stove. I quickly did the most reasonable thing and panicked. I grabbed the pot holder and as I started to open the oven door I noticed our crazy cat, Lucy racing by headed straight for the open smoking oven.

I handled the cat with flinging arm motions trying to save her life, meanwhile neglecting the pot holder that I had dropped into the oven which was now on fire!

I am sure in the pamphlet of life, this event would be under the headline of: Nailed it.

I grabbed the smouldering pot holder out of the oven and tossed it into the sink full of bubbly dish water, which sizzled upon entry. Then I turned down the oven to a lesser temperature, making sure that the little wing-lets were still there and had not been evaporated by fire and also opened a window to let in some fresher smelling air.

Next thing I knew, there was a loud bang on my door which I opened muttering “What now?” And noticed at least four firemen standing there demanding to know if we were ok and why hadn’t we come outside if our house was on fire?

Little had I known that when I opened the window for fresh air, huge amounts of smoke went billowing out just as Linda was walking up our pathway returning from her nightly walk with the dogs. Startled, she called 911 and reported a fire at our house.

At some point in time, every good neighbour can be deemed nosy or intrusive. Instead of being afraid or disengaging yourself from them, embrace that maybe those are just the qualities of someone who cares about you and the place they call home. As humiliating as it was that my cooking had caused such a raucous, I was so thankful to have a neighbour who cared about us and our safety. A neighbour who could have just ignored the signs of trouble but instead stuck her neck out for us.

After all was said and done, and the report was filled out by the firemen, who declined our offer to stay for supper, my daughter and I ate some yummy and surprisingly un-burnt chicken wings thankful for Linda, who is truly a good neighbour.

Heart Deep: When Self-Harm Becomes Heart Harm.

**A Part of the Fixer Upper Series**

1. self-harm

NOUN

The practice of injuring yourself, especially by cutting, in order to relieve emotional distress

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Tonight when I picked up my girl, I knew right away we had a problem. It involves while maybe innocently, the above. And it was pretty scary.

Later, as I was eating my supper, alone, because I didn’t have a chance before she went to bed. I was reflecting. And thinking, I don’t think I have ever had an experience where I thought hurting myself was the right answer!? What was she thinking?

Of course, most of that is maternal feelings, and can easily set off the feelings of well I am her mother, and I have never done that. And so she shouldn’t either.

Which is also not the way to go.

But as I sat there, eating my meatballs and rice and just thinking about it, a memory came back to me with a jolt.

I have done harm to myself intentionally. No, I wasn’t 7, but I wasn’t a teenager either.

Is that how easy it is to push away the severity of our actions?

“I was 23, just after the break up with whom I thought I was going to marry.”

I could have sworn that I was over him at this point.

I was emptying the dishwasher, and a martini glass slipped out of my hand and landed on the side of my foot. (Which of course was not on purpose.)

But as I looked down in surprise I realized, how close it could have come to landing on my foot. I would’ve had to go to the hospital. I probably would have needed stitches.

I could have called my ex-boyfriend for help if I needed stitches.

I could have…

But it didn’t fall on my foot. It fell beside my foot.

So I picked up the almost broken glass and dropped it again. This time harder, and in the direction of my foot.

And then I took out another martini glass and dropped it on my foot again. And again. And again.

“What was I thinking? That hurt so badly, the pain, the blood, the tears that were pouring down my face, and I did it all to myself.”

 I know that as a women, (I am sure men have the same problems or equivalent to this behaviour, but as always I am writing from a ladies perspective.) That we all have an emotional feeling/button that goes off sometimes and it just isn’t rational. But there are also these feeling that we have that are completely rational, but we handle them in the wrong way. Maybe with not enough tender care.

Sometimes, we forget that we are beautifully, and wonderfully made. Knitted together.

Not something to be altered with.

This is something that I want my beautiful and 7 year old daughter to know. I want her to know that she is beautiful, and special and wonderfully made.

And I also want to protect her innocent heart, and not have her experience things that are this painful and destructive.

I am sharing this with you, because as we talk about self image and inner beauty, there are things that are so much more then how we look and feel about our outsides. This is more than surface, this is heart deep. This is true life stuff. And we cant take that lightly. Not for ourselves, but also for our daughters. And our nieces. And our grandchildren. And our friends daughters.

This is more then skin deep. This is heart deep.

A little side note:

While I usually share no matter how hard it is to state out loud, I am trying to protect my daughter’s privacy and heart. So no further details will be given out, thank you for understanding.