They're Back

We try not to stare, which would be rude. But, aren't they staring at us?

They’re back. Last year, the neighbors across the street had a visit—or maybe it was a visitation—from some smiling otherworldly creatures that lit up every night and bobbled around with the breezes, and then collapsed into flat white shadows after everyone fell asleep. Then, one day, they were gone. At first, I thought about them; but, then, they disappeared from my memory.

Well, today, they popped up again, and it's as though they never left, as though the twelve months since their last appearance never existed. At first, Shane got frightened and barked at them. Not me. I try to be way cooler than that.

They ignored us last year, but this year, I feel their eyes on us. And even when we're inside the house, I think they're trying to see what's going on. Maybe they want to be friends. Maybe they're just curious. Maybe they feel bad about snubbing us last year.

I'm a little concerned about saying the first hello, because they might get the wrong idea, might think I'm being too friendly, too in need of friends. Whenever we walk through the neighborhood, Joan says hello to everyone we pass. Most of the time, the people say hello back. But, lots of times, they just look at the ground or grunt. If I say the first hello to these visitors, they might grunt, too; and then my feelings would be hurt. So, until I get a little better at handling rejection, I'm just going to play it cool.

Best wishes, Juno