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Thy neighbour
Saturday, December 2nd, 2006 01:29 pmI am usually not someone to press my nose to the window behind the net curtains, but today I did, because there was an ambulance next door. It was hard to see through the boughs of the juniper tree, but I did think that I saw the gate of their garden being opened.
Our neighbour, Ms B., had leukaemia a few years ago. She seemed to have recovered, such as is possible, but since she is only a few years younger than my grandmother... well. So many things can happen.
When I grew up, I used to climb over the fence between our gardens and used to play in their garden, "help" them gardening, doing vital jobs like picking the strawberries for them or finding the garden gnomes they have in their garden, or playing with their swing seat, which I loved. I only stopped doing that when we moved to Norderstedt when I was ten, but even after that they kept giving me birthday presents, until a few years later. I loved her as a child, and it was hard to realise that now there was so little we had to talk that nothing could be said to the homely housewife and her husband, the retired train conductor, that I kept out of their way to avoid those embarrassed silences.
Working in the garden with this friendly woman with the bonnet that made her Mrs. B. like her booming laugh are some of my happiest memories.
Oh, I hope she will be better.
Our neighbour, Ms B., had leukaemia a few years ago. She seemed to have recovered, such as is possible, but since she is only a few years younger than my grandmother... well. So many things can happen.
When I grew up, I used to climb over the fence between our gardens and used to play in their garden, "help" them gardening, doing vital jobs like picking the strawberries for them or finding the garden gnomes they have in their garden, or playing with their swing seat, which I loved. I only stopped doing that when we moved to Norderstedt when I was ten, but even after that they kept giving me birthday presents, until a few years later. I loved her as a child, and it was hard to realise that now there was so little we had to talk that nothing could be said to the homely housewife and her husband, the retired train conductor, that I kept out of their way to avoid those embarrassed silences.
Working in the garden with this friendly woman with the bonnet that made her Mrs. B. like her booming laugh are some of my happiest memories.
Oh, I hope she will be better.
