On a sunny afternoon a few years ago, The Father of My Children stopped by the house to pick up the children.
"Where is The Princess?"
"She’s across the street at the Wood’s."
"There are no woods on this street."
Ever since, Pure Luck and I have jokingly repeated this line when we hear something else funny from TFoMC.
True, we have no forest, but we do have lovely neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Wood. They live in the yellow house just across from us. Their grandchildren visited frequently and the youngest proved a playmate for The Princess. When #1 Son needed to wear a tie to his National Honor Society induction, and neither of us knew how to tie one, Mr. Wood did it for him. Both boys have helped walk or feed their pets (all rescues) when the Woods, active retirees, were off sailing or skiing. They volunteer in good causes and are faithful to their Catholic parish.
News travels slowly on our block in the winter. I learned only this morning that Mr. Wood died last Thursday; he had a heart attack on the ski slopes.
There are no Woods on this street now, just Mrs. Wood, the dear lady who knows which of my three cats is which, who asks how I’m doing when Pure Luck is away, who searches the block when her formerly feral cat, Flipper, gets loose and who always has a warm smile for everyone. I can only hope her faith and her good nature will carry her through this loss, six months after their golden wedding anniversary.
There are no woods on this street, and it’s no longer a joke.