Love Thy Neighbor (Part 2)

Love Thy Neighbor (Part 2)

So I met my new neighbors. Wow! Absolutely impressed. A little confused as well, but that’s ok. I was born confused and life never managed to remedy that.The Y’s hosted the party. I have never been to a neighborhood party before, because I never lived in this type of hood before either. There’s a first time for everything.The Y’s are right next door. Not much travel there. They have an adorable puppy, and my guess is most respectable Americans have a dog.  British too.  The rest of Europe and Asia are not so keen on the ‘unconditional love’ of a pet thing.But I’m digressing as usual…The Y’s are fabulous. I have no clue why and how they knew what my favorite foods were, but they served them.  Deviled eggs, really good, shrimp, Brie cheese, a nice whole table in an immaculate kitchen.  Needless to say, if you are one of my faithful readers, I immediately became very uncomfortable. I have kitchen phobia and I actually do panic if I see women cleaning, organizing, doing normal things, you know, like hosting people.You see, when I was a little girl, I saw a foreign movie (communist movies in Romania were too picture perfect).  I saw a beautiful woman cooking in the kitchen for her husband. And then the husband came home from work.  She must have been a stay-at-home something, and they started to fight. I didn’t understand, as I could not read the subtitle.  Nor did I understand whatever language the movie was in.  But I could tell they were angry and yelling at each other and then the man stood up and threw onto the floor everything she had prepared for dinner. And then, out of the blue, two kids show up crying at the door and the scene was too brutal to watch —  yet absurdly fun in communist Romania.I swore to myself then, I would never, ever cook in my life. I still do not do it and kitchens make me nervous.Mrs. Y is absolutely beautiful, just like all my neighbors.  I do not know what the deal is, but I’ll tell you what, I am in physical beauty Paradise.  I don’t care about gardens yet, but I have a feeling I’ll be forced to get there.My husband and I were the first to arrive at the scene, a bit too punctual, but my beautiful next door neighbors were ready.Slowly, the others showed up.I assumed everybody came because I was a ‘famous author’ — because why else would anyone, by their own will, go to a party just to hang out with neighbors?To my surprise, they had no clue who I was, and everybody showed up because they are extremely nice and kind.  I’m looking at them thinking, this is the result of being born and raised in a free country — and with money.  At least, that’s my only logical explanation for everybody being so welcoming.  Or, everybody IS a serial killer and they are trying to lure me into their yard so they can murder and bury me together with other bodies.  At this point, I am, like my mother recently posted on Facebook, “looking for a black cat in a dark room, even though she isn’t there”.The jury is still out and I’m most assuredly locked in safely — until proven one way or the other.I love my neighbors.  One was extremely kind and empathetic, one very kind, but a bit more aggressive, one so humble I felt I’d crush her with my ego, another one so handsome I fell in love instantly (and no, I do not care that the handsome and very sweet, gentle, well dressed, blue eyed stunner is happily married to another man. I love him and that’s that. Can’t people understand such a strong emotion without associating it with  sexual impulses?)Anyway, I love my neighbors.  I love the way they are, how they talk and how they can’t understand how intimidated I am when they discuss gardening tools and other such fantasies.  My husband finally feels at home. We are among successful people, lawyers, doctors, a TV celebrity I had never heard of! (My bad, but hey, he probably never heard of me either.)The thing is I am so looking forward to future neighborhood parties.  I’m already planning some myself.In the meantime however, I need some space to adjust to the local ‘culture shock’, to remember how to water a garden, how to use a hose without splashing my sisters in my parent’s garden and just to let myself settle in yet another reality.I know you think my life is so beautiful and charmed, and you know what, it is. But you still don’t know what a struggle it is being glued to a computer screen in complete solitude, alone within one’s haunting thoughts.Good thing is, my neighbors will likely be there if I need them. I know I am here for everyone who needs me.Love,Ioana