Something so invaluable happened yesterday:
I met my neighbors.
Some on the front porch where I held my tiny sale (my shops are so sparse from purchase activity that all I had total was a tiny table full of my work - this is a very blessed problem to have), some after the sale was over, in my studio poring over what was left and picking a few things out.
I met puppies,
couples on bikes and on foot,
socially inept and gracious alike,
where I live.
I have names to go with faces, knowledge of upcoming block parties and barbecues.
I have a hot tip from a red-headed woman in her 60s of a weekly Friday Salso Dancing party held in her living room, followed by drinks and appetizers.
Rumors were whispered of potlucks and pregnancies and I even met a Corgi pup named Daschel who lives a few houses down across the street.
His human, Brian, told me that when the UPS truck rolls up to any house on the street for delivery I will hear Daschel bay like his life depends on it.
UPS indeed had a drop-off this morning and I heard a strange sort of music in the bass-y bark that followed:
and in the air after the truck had passed and the noise had gone quiet,
the intoxicating sense of possibility.
We are here
we are home
and my cup runneth over.
I will have a few necklaces to show you either this evening or tomorrow morning: