scenes from the neighborhood

It hasn't all been yelling and police visits, I promise. 

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On Sunday I was walking home from dropping off my bike (flat rear tire). Stepping into the street to avoid some scaffolding propping up a listing house, I saw a woman also in the street holding a bakery box, some bread, and the leash to a panting little bulldog. Go ahead, she said, he's not moving.

We chatted, and I learned Wendell the dog had grown tired in the muggy heat and refused to walk the remaining four blocks home. He just lay in the cool dirt, panting. I offered to carry the bakery box because the woman said she was just the dog walker and couldn't carry both Wendell and her chocolate-peanut butter cake.

So Siobhan, Wendell and I proceeded down a few sunny blocks to his house. He dog-smiled at me over her shoulder, happy to have a ride. We made a pit stop at the church to see if he'd walk but all he would do was roll around, delirious, in the grass.

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Near the library yesterday I was in the crosswalk with two other pedestrians when a Jeep roared up around a corner, tipping on its wheels. A brief moment of panic and the driver fortunately stood on the brakes. We had some pedestrian solidarity, shaking our heads at her recklessness. Another woman stepped onto the sidewalk from the opposite direction. Did y'all see that wreck? she said, breathless. We thought she meant the Jeep but there was another crash directly across the street, and if she hadn't hesitated she would have been hit. Be safe, we said to each other, and went our separate ways.

I went to the post office, where the key in my PO box, meant to open a package locker, instead twisted uselessly. I tried all the techniques, but no. So I got in line, between two women waiting at the counter, and a very young man absorbed in his phone. Minutes passed. Eight. Ten. A guy got in line behind me. I asked him to hold my place and I went back to try the key again. Nope. I came back. Is anyone working here, he said, and I said I'd briefly seen a clerk when I came in but not since.

He'd gotten a notification from Amazon, he said, that his package had a failed attempted delivery at 1pm. But it was only 11 a.m. We traded looks. It was a re-order of a previous package that had had many "in progress" statuses but then never materialized. It's a whole Italian ham, he said, stretching out his arms. A whole pig's leg. I gave up, to go retrieve my rental bike, wondering if he ever would get his ham.

 Today I walked home from the post office, after successfully retrieving my package (the postal clerk scowled suspiciously when I told her the key did NOT work, but she eventually went and got my delivery). A big dog barked behind a metal screen door as I passed. An older woman approached in the street. Did that dog bark at you? I nodded. She was scared of it, she said. It barked a lot. 

Do you want me to walk with you? She nodded again. So I walked back up the street with her. The house door was mostly closed now. The dog didn't bark. She said she'd been bitten as a six-year-old.

You're traumatized, I said and she said yes. Then she climbed onto her porch and went inside her house.