a community chain

Everyone needs a neighbor.

Our neighbor baked us a cherry pie after we watched her two dogs for the day. She walked it over from her place. It was wrapped in a yellow and cream tea towel, twisted tightly at the top. I tried to replicate the twist, but it’s a move that belongs to her, a former bakery owner. When she handed the pie over to me, it warmed the palm of my hands.

One of the dogs that we watched for the day is not actually hers. Meg, the wild Brittany Spaniel with caramel brown eyes and a nutmeg-colored coat (hence her name, Meg), belongs to another one of our neighbors, Andrew. Andrew is a long-time island resident, having spent over 60 years calling this little island tucked away in the Salish Sea home. He is gruff, weathered, and opinionated. The mainland, with all its easy conveniences and unnecessary stoplights, be damned. Andrew sticks to his landline, his daily agate walks, and his trusty mandarin-orange pickup. We will spare you the content of his bumper sticker collection.

Andrew is a neighbor, in its truest form. A neighbor that calls you to warn you of the incoming wind storm and checks in on the status of your faulty baseboard heaters. A neighbor that pops the hood of your car and peers inside when the engine won’t start. A neighbor that calls a friend of a friend when your well pump goes out. The neighbor that we needed.

Andrew had a double stroke in early September that landed him in a permanent care facility on the mainland he never wanted to belong to. So, his neighbor has taken in his loyal and devoted Meg. Meg still sprints up and down the beach, grabs a piece of driftwood and shakes it to death, and curls up on a warm couch. We wonder if she notices that Andrew isn’t walking the beach beside her.

When our neighbor had to be off-island all day, she asked us to watch Meg, along with her playful Dachshund, Mabel. We missed Andrew that day. A quick flash of orange fur always meant that he wasn’t far behind, agates clinking in his jacket pocket, eager to boast about his morning findings. Meg probably does not notice that Andrew isn’t exploring the beach beside her, but we did.

We think about all of the times that we needed our neighbors, the community that forms this little island home. For us, these newer island-dwellers, the list is practically endless. The other day, though, we were needed. It felt good to be called upon. We watched the two dogs for our neighbor, knowing that our neighbor is also, temporarily and maybe permanently, caring for Andrew’s dog. A community chain, endlessly linked when you start looking. Over and under and around, together and together some more. And then, a cherry pie, still warm from the oven, lands on our kitchen counter. Yet another link in the chain.

A community is about needing, and it’s also about being needed.