My family moved from Rockford, Illinois, to a suburb of Des Moines, Iowa, when I was 7 years old. Our neighborhood was pretty young, both literally and demographically. Our house was a new build, and with the exception of a few retirees, most of the families on the street had kids my age or younger.
We didn’t really know our neighbors much beyond first names and vague details. Across the street was Shirtless Ron, a retired man with Santa Claus’s physique and a penchant for topless yardwork. Next door was Loping Boy, a classmate of mine who received this nickname as a teen because of his slow, plodding gait while mowing the lawn.
We might exchange polite greetings with our neighbors, but we didn’t have relationships with them. In any case, I’ve always wanted a neighbor who was a real friend, not just a character or caricature. Someone I could actually know.
Well, I am pleased to report that I made my first neighbor-friend! It only took 30+ years!
She's in her late 70s, and she lives alone in a little house with her little dog. She doesn’t have family nearby, so she sometimes asks my husband and I for help with certain things: climbing a ladder to check her roof for damage after a windstorm, picking up a heavy parcel from the post office, etc.
She also brings us little gifts: homemade jam, French tarragon clipped from the huge, bushy plant in her garden, miscellaneous Costco items that she bought in bulk and can’t possibly consume by herself before they spoil. (I once got a text from her that my husband and I quote to each other all the time: “So, I bought a large package of havarti cheese slices...”)
One could argue that there’s a transactional aspect to our relationship, but it’s only because she needs some help and I am more than happy to oblige — with or without compensation, although she insists on paying monetarily for certain bigger tasks (and she slips me a Lindor chocolate truffle for smaller ones).
But over time, we’ve developed a friendship outside of these exchanges of favors, chores, gifts, and payments. We drink tea together. We talk about books and creativity and our travels and our families. Despite our age gap, we have plenty in common. (Also, she introduced me to the concept of “night lunch,” which is essentially just a late night snack but with a better name.) Dare I speak on her behalf and say we genuinely enjoy each other’s company.
There’s something special about a neighbor that becomes a friend. Proximity and serendipity brings you together, and it’s up to the two of you to decide how to proceed... Until one of you moves away, which I’m sad to say is what I’m experiencing now 🥲 She is moving to be closer to family.
In fact, moving is one of the bigger jobs I helped her with. When I helped her load some things into her car the other night, she thanked me and said God would bless me.
I think he already has.
See you later,
Kara
Out of Office
What I do when I’m not at my desk
Reading: While I was on my lake vacation in Wisconsin last week, I read three entire books — a new record! All by the same author. All historical romances that were quite steamy, so proceed with caution 😂 In any case, I found a new favorite romance author: Alexandra Vasti. My favorite of the three was Earl Crush.
Watching: At the lake, I rewatched Emma (2020 adaptation). Kind of forgot how wonderful it is, and I just love Bill Nighy as Mr. Woodhouse.
Doing: Scheming 😈 Now that Snail Mail Summer is over ( 😢), I am figuring out what’s next. I’ll be doing some sort of retrospective/recap, maybe a video??? Tbd, stay tuned.
Kara Detwiller is a writer and artist based in small-town Saskatchewan. She specializes in long-form content writing for enterprise SaaS, cybersecurity, and manufacturing clients. She is also working on her first novel, among other creative pursuits. To connect, reply to this email or find Kara on LinkedIn.
Why Wishful Working? I want to help people thrive in a world obsessed with work and productivity. Together, we’re expanding the definition of productivity, rediscovering life balance, and exploring the many kinds of work that make life possible.
