Small Gifts

Sometimes, in the crazy, runaround lives we lead, it is important to stop and consider the little blessings. This morning, ever so briefly, while unloading the laundry, making lunch, searching for sweatshirts, I experienced such a little blessing.
We have a neighbor, and I shall call him Joe. I call him Joe, not because I am trying to conceal his identity, because let's be honest, after you read this, you will know exactly who I am talking about. But, the fact is, I do not know Joe's name. He is, I suppose, a handsome man, by sexagenarian standards. He has a full head of pure white hair, a gentle face, and it looks like the man knows how to party--he has a bit of a beer belly. He lives in the kind of strange house on our street--every street has a strange house--with his sexagenarian girlfriend, who has one of those southern nicknames like Honey or Bitty, or Bebe and resembles the famous Ms. Frizzle of the Magic School Bus book series.
Joe and Bitty are not often home, they seem to own other strange homes on other streets around the Gulf. But when they are home, they take walks together around the cul de sac of our street. It's nice, actually. A lot of people on our street take advantage of the early morning and evening cool, and walk around the circle. And since most of the people on our street are older, it's very cute to me to see these couples holding hands as they take a little exercise in the shady path of our street.
This, of course, being the same street that E refuses to play on. He feels that he should be supervised at all times, and when I suggest that our 87 year old neighbor is NOT going to run him over with his walker, E remains unamused. If these slow pedestrians feel safe, surely a child on a bicycle would be ok, but no, E prudently remains on the driveway.
Oh, right. I forgot to mention the fundamental detail of Joe and Bitty's daily walk: he doesn't wear any clothes. Yup. He wears what very much appear to be boxer shorts or sometimes, a bathing suit. Socks. Shoes. That is what he wears. Beer belly and man breasts out for all to see. Thankfully, he must spend a lot of time au naturel, because he has a decent tan. But, please. It's so early in the morning, and I come down and turn on the sink, look out my window, and watch semi naked walker doing his laps, and I wish I had mini blinds.
But, this morning, my little blessing came in the form of a poly-cotton blend. The cooling fall weather prompted Joe to don a sweatshirt and pants. Hooray! Go, Joe!