i finally met the neighbors today. you know, the ones across the street that i see coming and going quite often. yhis was not a Bree Vandekamp welcome to the neighborhood. there were no muffins involved; not even one piece of fruit. even my smile was unreturned, but at least she sort of shook my hand. she told me her name and gestured at her husband who was loading something into their car. then she pointed out their house (as if I didn't know which house it was) and proceeded to explain that they were held-up, at gunpoint, in their garage on friday.

"we're just trying to let everyone know," she said in a somewhat shell-shocked tone.

the semi-mothering side of me kicked in with "are you okay" and "do you need anything", but she just continued to say, "we just want people to know."

i'm not oblivious to the kind of neighborhood that i've chosen to live in. Iive seen a drug deal go down on the corner. i wonder if this couple knew or if they were deceived by the beauty of it's tree-lined streets. i am both saddened and scared, mostly with them. but what has haunted me since the conversation this afternoon: it took a horrible situation for neighbors to finally meet. when neighbors can't be neighbors or choose not to be neighbors: that's when evil sneaks into the garage.

like a stab to the heart...