My Least Favorite Neighbor Did Something Unthinkable Last Spring

In 70 years, nothing like this had ever happened to me before.

Jody Alyn
The Memoirist

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Head shot of a dark-haired woman among trees in a floppy hat with wide-eyed, eerily angry expression.
Photo by Rachael Crowe on Unsplash

Who knocks on the front door these days? Friends tell you they’re coming. FedEx and Amazon just leave whatever they’re bringing. Even neighbors text first. No one just drops in.

I was surprised when I looked out my front door on that nondescript April day to see my neighbor, Angela. I’d not seen her more than once or twice since I moved here 20 months before.

People are very friendly in our neighborhood. We gather for fun and sometimes to address common concerns. We text each other when the wildlife gets spectacular or just too close.

My other next-door neighbor — five years my senior — calls me “bubbe,” the Yiddish word for grandmother. My across-the-street neighbor takes my succulents when I travel and calls them “li’l darlings.” I text both of them to say when I’ll be gone. Otherwise, they watch for my blinds to open each day to know I’m alive and well.

But of course wherever people gather, there is always a bad egg. I’d been told to watch out for Angela. They said she’d left papers on the stove and set her house on fire. She’d “broken up a marriage” by having an affair with somebody on the block…

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Jody Alyn
The Memoirist

Inclusion strategist. Justice advocate. Former therapist. Focus on social identity, implicit bias. Mom. G-ma. Life is a process—I write about it.