It looked like any old storm door handle in this condo complex until yesterday.
Night had fallen and I hadn’t, which is always a good way to end the day. I’d gone about my usual bedtime routine, turning down the heat, shutting off lights, except for a lamp or two and locking up.
On windy days the storm door sometimes flaps a bit in the breeze so, each night, I open the front door to double check if the storm door’s secure.
It was but something hung from the handle, moving just enough to pique my curiosity. After steeling myself for a blast of cold, I reached around to retrieve the dangling particle. (Hope no physicists are reading this.)
Not a flyer advertising something I didn’t need, nor an announcement from the condo association but a gift.
A gift, blowing in the breeze, no name attached!
That’s the kind of neighbor she is.
The kind of neighbor I wish to be.
She reads my blog and still chooses to be seen with me in public.
A set of four wooden clothes pins, the kind Mama and I used to hang Monday’s wash, back when life seemed more ordered. Sundays were for church, Mondays for washing clothes and Tuesdays for ironing.
These clothespins were painted and each came with a word, suggesting how one might designate a stack of stuff other than: Keep, Toss, or Giveaway.
They came as a set of Happy Clips:
No need to sort and sob with so much for which to be happy, thankful, blessed and grateful, especially for a neighbor who reads more than words.
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