Day #11 of #RRBC’s #ADayInMyLife 30-Day #Blogging Challenge! @maurabeth2014 @RRBC_RWISA @RRBC_Org @Tweets4RWISA #RWISA

MY NEIGHBOR, NOT-EDITH

I heard from my neighbor today. Her name is not Edith.

See, that is why around our house we call her Not-Edith. I won’t put her real name in here, because I don’t think she would like me doing that. Her real name sounds a lot like Edith, but – well, you know the rest. She is a neighbor with whom, once a week for the past four or five years, I have taken a walk. How it happened is this. I was walking one morning and she was coming the other way. I can’t remember if I had a dog or dogs with me, we had two at the time, but she crossed the street and stopped to say hello.

“Well, this is nice,” I thought. This isn’t the friendliest of neighborhoods. I mean, people wave from cars when they go by, but if you pass them out on the street, often they will not talk at all. I think it could be a Jersey thing. I always say hello, and sometimes stop to make a remark to whomever is passing by. I think they may regard me as the “crazy old lady.”

But back to Not-Edith. I was charmed by her gesture and stopped to talk to her, ask where she lived, and so forth. She seemed lonely. She suggested we could walk together and we settled on meeting to do just that, once a week. That started the habit and we have been walking ever since.

Not-Edith got her name because I was writing a story that had a minor character named Edith. When telling George I was leaving for my walk one day, I said I was meeting Edith, probably because that name was in my mind. For some reason, George thought it would be funny to call her Edith and I kept saying, “she’s NOT Edith” out of exasperation. I was afraid that I would call her Edith by mistake. This is a thing George does, thinking – no, hoping – he can confuse me. For instance, he calls another neighbor, whose name is Chuck and who is the grumpiest person on the planet, “Chuckles.” He is just waiting for me to call him Chuckles, I can feel it. We also have a neighbor named Ira, who is always angry about something. George calles him “Irate.” I have almost slipped and called him Irate several times. I won’t tell you any more, although there are more examples of George’s “nickname” habit. I don’t want to encourage George in case he reads this. George – it is not funny!

Not-Edith is not a happy person, and I have often thought of stopping our walks because sometimes she depresses me. She is almost as grumpy as Chuckles, always complaining about something or someone. Most days when I meet her, her shoulders are slumped and she has a strained expression on her face. I will think “Uh oh,” and sometimes ask, “What’s wrong?” Which is silly, because then she will go into a tirade about someone who played loud music all night, or watered their lawn and wasted water, or whatever got on her nerves. But, I keep walking with her because she became a widow at the beginning of the pandemic and I don’t have the heart to desert her. I just try to be upbeat and not call her by the wrong name.

We are walking tomorrow morning. I’ll do my best to cheer her up, but what are the odds? And I will try really hard not to call her Edith.

by Maura Beth Brennan https://maurabethauthor.com/

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