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It's Saturday morning. Sunlight falls into my bedroom, drawing my eyes to the soft pastels of my wallpaper, then to the window where I can see the peak of the rooftop next door. The Coles' rooftop. My thoughts turn to the latest neighborhood news: Kristy's had her baby.
Kristy—15 years old and an unwed mother. Although the Coles have lived next door for several months, I don't know them. But I've heard Kristy's step dad, Ron, has an eight-year-old son, Chad, from a previous marriage. And Kristy's mom, Sue, has a teenage son, Todd, from her first marriage. Next there's two-year-old Scott, who was born to Ron and Sue. Now Kristy's made Sue a grandmother. Does that make Ron a grandfather? Or a step-grandparent? Is there even such a thing?
My husband wakes up, fluffs his pillow, and asks what's for breakfast. At the same time, I hear our eight-year-old daughter, Julie, bounding downstairs for morning cartoons. I roll out of bed and head for the shower.
After breakfast I load the dishwasher, wipe off the counters, and work on a sewing project I'd started. Julie taps on the door. "There's something I want to show you," she murmurs. Clearing a space, she lays down a sheet of notebook paper folded in half like a greeting card. On the front is a crayoned rainbow. On the inside are large, red letters:
"Dear Kristy, I'm happy you had a baby. Jessica is a pretty name."
Hmm, I muse. Jessica. So it's a girl. Underneath is the drawing of a smiling, toothless baby and the words "God loves you." It's signed, "Love from your next-door neighbor Julie."
After my daughter leaves the room, I lean on the sewing table, chin in hand, and think about this. Then I go looking for Julie.
Don't give it to her yet," I say. "Would you like to get a little gift, too?"
"Yeah, Mom!"
We drive to K-Mart where we buy a yellow duck wearing a blue hat. When we return home, Julie wraps the duck, tapes the card on top, and we take it next door. As we wait on the porch I'm surprised I've never noticed the pretty welcome sign. But then, I've never stood on this porch before. In fact, I've made no effort to become acquainted with Sue at all. She has so many family members. While I've been married to the same man for more than 15 years (who, by the way, is father to all our four children). I'm just unable to identify with Sue's kind of life.
When Sue answers the door—that is, I think it's Sue—I'm embarrassed at having to introduce myself.
"Hi. I'm Karen, from next door. This is my daughter, Julie."
Sue, who wears her dark, curly hair in a ponytail and is dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, looks quite normal. She smiles warmly and invites us in to see the baby. Kristy's on the couch, cuddling her precious bundle. Julie hands Kristy the duck, then asks to hold Jessica while I apologize.
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