Neighbors

By Gloria Mazza

For the second time in six months, I have new neighbors across the street. Maybe they’ll be better than the last ones.

I wave from my wheelchair’s strategic position on the wrap-around porch. You gain insight into people by seeing what they own and how they treat it. Moving day consists of crying children, screaming adults, barking dogs, and endless slamming doors sandwiched between clumsy attempts at carrying cheap furniture.

The noise and mayhem have worsened in the weeks since. I maneuver my chair into the kitchen to prepare yet another batch of my special ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ chocolate cookies.