TheBanyanTree: Awkward Moment #76

[Monique Colver]

These aren't in any particular order, but they're numbered. Yes. I know. It
doesn't have to make sense.

Yesterday we returned home after a trip to . . . Portland, maybe? The new
next door neighbors, a young couple, were outside, surveying their lawn. We
don't have very big front yards, but we do have can quickly go to hell if
no one pays attention, and given that they're new, no one was paying
attention. Andrew wandered over to talk with them, and after I extricated
myself from the car (not an easy task some days), I wandered over to. They
were on the sidewalk at the end of their driveway, talking about grass
seed, and as I got there Andrew said, "Do you have grass seed?"

"I don't think so," said the husband (or he seemed like a husband, who
knows).

"I've got some you can have," said Andrew, who is always so helpful, "I'll
get it," and he headed for our garage. The young couple headed for their
garage, which was open, and stood there.

And down on the sidewalk, I pretended to be interested in . . . . anything.

But the only thing I was really interested in was why did everyone walk
away when I got there? And by interested, I don't mean I was interested
enough to ask them. "Hey! Why are you leaving me standing here alone?"

I took stock of the situation, which was that I was standing at the end of
the neighbor's driveway, and then I meandered back to my house, where I
went inside and shut the door firmly.

Perhaps the people next door, being so young, are under the impression that
Andrew lives with his elderly mother, and everyone knows elderly mothers
can be ignored.

Or maybe . . . and this is just a possibility . . . maybe they can't see
me. Maybe I'm like a ghost. Maybe the sun was shining too brightly and went
right through me.

Or maybe I should have followed them to their garage and engaged them in
conversation. But I don't do that sort of thing because small talk is not
my thing.

My thing is participating in awkward moments and then writing about it.


Monique