In May, I moved out of my house of 25 years and into a new home and new neighborhood. I love it, nice quiet area on a dead-end street. So different from the busy street I used to live on with only two neighbors (one on each side).
Now, nearly every weekday when I leave to go to my day-job, I drive by two neighborhood ladies in snazzy workout clothes having their morning walk. Being the friendly sort, I raise my hand and smile. They are a little hesitate, but they always give me a wave back, but no smile. I’m okay with that. Rome wasn’t built in a day. They know where I live, but nothing else about me.
For a few days last week, I’ve been running late and left after they passed my house. But one day, I walked out my front door as they were going by. Not wanting to act unfriendly, I waved, guessing they might look over. One of the ladies did glance my way. Obviously, not the leader of the two. Instead of waving back, she snapped her face forward, her hair whipping around, and they continued on. I bet her neck ached later that day.
My husband knew of my ritual of waving and smiling at them. So he asked before I closed the door, “Did they wave back?”
I leaned back into the house and said, “Noooo,” trying my best not to burst out laughing. They will never be friendly if they think I’m making fun of them. But this so reminds me of high school. Crazy.
Well, we’ll see how it goes next week. I’ll let you know.
On April 20, I will present Save The Story: No More Sagging Middles at the 
Carla Swafford, Author 