Funny how two people can live in the same town years and travel in completely different circles. Orbiting around their private galaxies, they choose favorite little restaurants full of comfort food on opposite ends of town. They visit the same Walmart on at different days and times, meeting random associates that color their experiences. More active during early morning or late afternoon, the town takes on a different feel for each of them. Such is the case with my new friend, Widower of the Pines, and me, Widowed at Winterpast.
“Have you been to ……???”
“No. Where’s that?”
Through the days, we’ve created a list of places that we’d like to visit together, making this neighborly affair more fun that two people should enjoy. Sitting in the front yard at The Pines yesterday, I saw my neighbor’s houses from entirely different views.
The Peach People, named so for their gorgeous tree loaded with fruit, were of interest to me over the last year. We share the north east corner post of my back yard. Every day over the last few months, workmen disturbed the neighborhood silence. Stucco contractors. Painters. Concrete professionals. Landscapers. They all came and went, while no one was there during evenings and weekends. For the longest time, I thought the house would be flipped, while in reality, there were just two homeowners making revisions before moving in. Enjoying the transformation from another perspective, they did a beautiful job.
As I looked more closely, roofline’s made sense. There was Madam President’s house, (known to me through my service group). And Fence Buddy, whom I’ve only spoken with over our back fence. Sitting in the yard looking towards the mountains, there was my huge backyard tree. The one that resembled a burning bush last winter in the glow of the early morning sun. Just like that, I realized that when I sit in my hot tub, the only thing between WP’s house and mine is about 100 yards and Fence Buddy’s RV barn. I could stand up and wave to WP. Our houses stand that close to one another.
My beauty salon wasn’t known to WP, until he enjoyed a wonderful pedicure there. He didn’t know we have a Dairy Queen or Wendy’s. I hadn’t enjoyed his favorite hamburger spot, where the waitresses watch over us like royalty. He didn’t know about my church, Baptist on Main. I didn’t know about the local chiropractor. As the days go by, our love of this little town has grown. With more exploration we’ll know every shop and service in the area.
Last night, after a long day of chores while running errands between our houses, we were exhausted. Pizza would be a good choice for a Saturday night dinner. Usually, I’d just dial up the local Round Table for delivery. WP suggested something new. Had I tried the 76 Deli on Main? Well, no, I hadn’t. I’d heard it was a gem, hidden away in the back of a convenience store. I’d give it a try.
Picking up the pizza, there was a local woman laying on the pavement next to her car. A friend was nearby. Neither seemed stressed, so we left them to their problems and went inside. Descriptors escape me, except to say at first glance, the place didn’t scream “Deli”. WP knew right where to go, and in the back, the kitchen and staff became visible. A box was presented for approval with a delicious pizza, hot and ready.
Upon leaving, WP stopped to inquire about the woman, still laying on the pavement. Clothed, she laid by her car without anything under her body. Just quiet and face up on the ground.
“Everything okay?”
Yes. Everything was okay. It turns out she’d put her back out. She was just resting on the ground. Waving, we left. That sums up the quirky little red neck town in which we live. You just never know what strange things you’ll see. The unnatural is totally normal. No one is offended if you ask whether everything is okay. With a smile and wave, we headed home to enjoy a wonderful evening.
From Winterpast, we can see the airport strobe from my back yard. We can see part of the large letter on the side of the mountain marking our town’s location. From The Pines, we can see the expanse of mountains and the big Nevada Sky to the West and the night time glow of the bigger town just beyond them. From Winterpast, with less light pollution, the stars are brighter. From The Pines the Sky is bigger. Added together, we get a more complete picture of our dusty little town at a wide spot in the road.
Who knew that with the exchange of business cards at the end of a community meeting, a friendship of neighbors could begin? Certainly not me. Certainly not WP. We speak of this often. What are the chances that a widow of 17 days would move to a dusty little town in which she knew only two friends? What are the chances that a Widower from Southern California would pick our tiny town as a good place to heal from heartbreak? Knowing a handful of new friends, we traveled our in separate circles each day, learning Nevada Means Home. Our circles now create an interesting Venn Diagram of possibilities. A happy accident here in the high desert of Northwestern Nevada.
The pizza was wonderful. Enjoying nerdy reruns on TCM, sat two content people. Nothing fancy. Nothing our of the ordinary. Just a quiet night shared by two neighbors. That’s our story and we’re sticking to it. Have a beautiful Monday.