The wind chime
Two years. That鈥檚 how long I had lived next door to my neighbor without ever speaking to him.
It鈥檚 not that I didn鈥檛 try. I would call out to him whenever I saw him working in his front yard. He would briefly look up from his gardening, and then turn away.
I tried every greeting I could think of. 鈥淕ood morning, neighbor! Looks like a warm one! Have a great day!鈥�
When that didn鈥檛 work, I tried a foreign accent. 鈥淕鈥檇ay, mate! Top of the morning, neighbor!鈥�
Nothing.
We are different. He seems much older and lives alone. I am married and have an exuberant 8-year-old granddaughter who spends weekends with my wife and me. He has a 鈥渘o trespassing鈥� flag in his front yard. We have seasonal greeting signs (鈥淗ello, fall!鈥�). He has a 鈥渂eware of dog鈥� sign and doesn鈥檛 own a dog. We have a retriever that licks everyone who passes by.
Like I said, we鈥檙e different.
Which is why I was surprised when I heard a quiet, apologetic knock on my front door and opened it to find my neighbor.
鈥淗ello,鈥� he muttered, 鈥淚 wonder if I might have a moment of your time.鈥�
Taken aback, I couldn鈥檛 think of an appropriate response.
鈥淚t鈥檚 important,鈥� he added, as if to justify his presence.
The man鈥檚 discomfort touched something in me, something I did not know could be there for this man, my neighbor, who had shown such disdain for me.
鈥淧lease,鈥� I offered, surprising myself, 鈥渃ome in.鈥�
He moved slowly as he entered, breathing heavily.聽
We sat in the living room, opposite each other, and when my neighbor began to speak, his voice sounded wounded and tired. 鈥淚 know you must think it strange, my being here. We鈥檝e never really spoken.鈥�
鈥淵es, I know.鈥�
鈥淚t鈥檚 important.鈥� And then, as if reconsidering, he added, 鈥淲ell, it鈥檚 important to me.鈥�
At this, my granddaughter bounded into the room, unaware of what was happening. When she saw our neighbor, the man she knew had rebuffed my attempts to be friendly, she paused, and then boldly stepped forward.
鈥淗ello, pleased to meet you. My name is Lilith. But you can call me Lily since you鈥檙e our neighbor,鈥� and she stuck out her hand.
For the first time, he looked up, first at me and then at my granddaughter. He reached out his hand to shake hers.
鈥淣ice to meet you, young lady. I鈥檓 Mr. Richards. Gene Richards from next door.鈥�
鈥淚鈥檓 not a young lady yet,鈥� Lily corrected, hopping up on the couch next to me. 鈥淚鈥檓 a little girl. I鈥檓 8.鈥� And then, as an afterthought she added, 鈥淏ut a lot of people think I鈥檓 older.鈥�
鈥淟ily,鈥� I interjected, 鈥渙ur neighbor Mr. Richards is here to talk to me about something. You should excuse yourself.鈥�
鈥淣o, no, that鈥檚 fine,鈥� Mr. Richards offered. 鈥淚t鈥檚 nothing like that. It鈥檚 actually kind of silly, I suppose. You see, earlier today I thought I heard something familiar. From your backyard.鈥�
鈥淎nd what was that?鈥�
鈥淎 wind chime.鈥�
Lily and I looked at each other.
鈥淚t sounded like the one I used to have, hanging from a eucalyptus tree in my backyard. At least, it was hanging there until that big storm we had last summer.鈥�
鈥淲hat did it look like?鈥� I asked.
鈥淚t was quite delicate, only about 8 inches tall. A metal moon with a smiling face 鈥� a man in the moon, I guess you鈥檇 call it, with four crystal cylinders hanging from it.鈥� Mr. Richards paused and then, in a faltering voice, added, 鈥淚t was a gift from my wife.鈥�
There was a long moment of silence before Lily, in a quiet, clear voice, said, 鈥淚 think we found it yesterday.鈥�
Mr. Richards sat up straight, his eyes wide.
鈥淢y granddaughter and I were planting flowers,鈥� I explained, 鈥渂y the fence. I was about to throw it away but Lily ...鈥�
鈥淩escued it!鈥� she cheerfully interjected, and with that, she slid off the couch and disappeared.
An awkward minute passed, and Lily reappeared in the doorway and softly padded her way across the room to Mr. Richards. She was holding the wind chime we had found.
鈥淚s this the one?鈥� she quietly asked.
At first, he couldn鈥檛 respond, as his eyes teared and his lips trembled. He finally managed a quiet, 鈥淵es.鈥�
Lily gently handed him the wind chime, spreading it out on his receiving hands as if it were a rare artifact.
鈥淏efore she passed, my wife said to remember her every time it chimed,鈥� Mr. Richards shared. 鈥淪he said it would be like her, speaking to me with the wind.鈥�
鈥淚 had to replace the clapper with a nail,鈥� Lily explained in a serious tone. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 what they call the metal piece that makes it chime.鈥�
Mr. Richards nodded. 鈥淚t鈥檚 perfect. Thank you.鈥�
Slowly, cradling the wind chime in both hands, Mr. Richards rose. 鈥淚 should be going. There鈥檚 still enough light that I can hang it up.鈥�
Lily and I followed Mr. Richards to the door. When he was about halfway down the walk, he turned. 鈥淢r.,鈥� and he stopped, realizing he didn鈥檛 know my name.
鈥淚t鈥檚 Bachmann,鈥� I quickly offered. 鈥淏ut you can call me Dave. We are, after all, neighbors.鈥�
鈥淵es, I鈥檒l do that. I was just thinking of something. Ever hear of a fella named Robert Frost?鈥�
I smiled. 鈥淗e鈥檚 one of my favorite poets.鈥�
鈥淚 was just remembering a poem of his we read in school. Something about fences and a wall.鈥�
鈥溾�楳ending Wall.鈥欌��
鈥淭hat鈥檚 it. There were two neighbors rebuilding the wall, and the one neighbor kept saying, 鈥楪ood fences make good neighbors.鈥欌��
鈥淵es, that鈥檚 right.鈥�
Mr. Richards paused, as if carefully considering what he was about to say. 鈥淚 think he might have been wrong about that.鈥�
I nodded in agreement.
鈥淪ee ya around, Dave.鈥�
鈥淪ee ya around, Gene.鈥�
Lily leaned up against me, took my hand, and squeezed it. 鈥淗ey, Gramps?鈥�
鈥淵es, Lily.鈥�
鈥淚 think you just got a new neighbor.鈥�