New Friend
There’s an eight-year-old boy who lives next-door to me. He’s named Colbert, (after Stephen). We have spied each other many times but have never spoken. If I wave, he usually darts behind the trees or hides behind his dad’s car. I always feel guilty for activating his “Stranger Danger” alarm, so I had given up trying to be neighborly. Today I was at the screen door in my kitchen, admiring my new bird-feeders, when Colbert popped up out of nowhere, like he was sprouted by the hosta. He stood at the bottom of my steps and pointed up and down the length of the feeder pole and said, “That’s yours? I wish I had that! I’ve been watching! There were FIVE squirrels under there today! All at the same time! FIVE! And the chipmunks! And the birds! Do you know them?!!” Before I could open my mouth, he continued, “And look what they did! Did they do that?! They smashed the plants! Did they eat them?” (The hostas and weeds under the feeder have been completely flattened by the wildlife parade