My Neighbor(s)

This could really be a 20 part series, but I will start with just this one post.

I have some, um, interesting neighbors. And who doesn't, really? And, yes, I know I probably serve for some good fodder and entertainment for them as well. But that is not the point. At least not today.

One neighbor, in particular, is extra entertaining/challenging to love. We'll just call her *Bernice.

My first awareness of Bernice's existence was a loud one. One Saturday morning a few years ago, hubs and I were still in bed asleep. I think it was around 7:30 am (obviously, this was before we had any kids). And we were awakened by the loudest, most relentless car horn. I got out of bed to see this lady in a beat up blue car pulled up parallel to our across the street neighbor's house. Our across the street neighbor, Katherine, was a sweet and elderly lady. Which essentially meant she was slow-moving. No amount of aggressive horn honking was going to make her move any faster. But Bernice seemed unconcerned and unfazed by that obvious fact. She honked for at least 10 minutes. I was a touch annoyed. Just a touch. Have I mentioned I am NOT a morning person?

Anyways, this became a regular occurrence. I got used to it like one gets used to morning sickness.

Eventually sweet Katherine moved to a retirement home and Bernice stopped her weekly honking.

A couple of weeks after our first child was born, but before Katherine moved to her retirement home, Katherine informed me of the fact that Bernice's house was broken into and several expensive items were taken. Up until this point, I didn't even know Bernice lived in our neighborhood, but Katherine told me where she lived and she said something like, "you may not have seen her before, but she comes by sometimes and gives me rides." Oh, YESSER, I have seen her. And HEARD her.

A couple of weeks later, Bernice flagged down my husband outside while he was cutting the grass and asked/demanded that he come over to her house to sit with her while she was having a workman in her house. She apparently was quite shaken by the robbery and didn't want to be in her house alone with a workman. Never mind the fact that she didn't know my hubs at all.

Hubs was uncomfortable going over to her house by himself and someone had to stay with our baby, so he came inside and asked me to go sit with her. I did.

That was the longest 2 hours of my life ever. And I will never get back my blissful ignorance of her. I long for that blissful ignorance to this day.

During that time that I sat with her at her house, she talked non-stop. She told me many colorful things which included, but is by no means limited to, the following:

-That she died on the operating room table in 1986 but God was not ready for her yet, so he sent her back.

-That she, um, designs, um, adult-entertainment rooms for "old fogies in Florida". She has one of these rooms at her house. She insisted that I see it. And, honestly and thankfully, I am too naive to even know what I saw. Praise the Lord!

-That she sold a business of hers to the mafia. She would tell me more about it, but it would endanger me.

I am not sure what Bernice's story is. I don't know if she is mentally unstable or if she is a brilliant story teller or if any of it is true.

Regardless, I stand in awe of her audaciousness, both in horn honking and story telling.

*Name changed to protect the guilty.