Last night we followed the yellow flyers to our neighborhood church for a National Night Out event and returned home with a bag full of yellow squash.
We held our breath and ran as we crossed Wendover, which is essentially a six-lane freeway that divides the block between the church and our house. I told one of the church members if we join a church based on my last two, only two, then this would the one. I’ve always walked to church since I was three.
The church was quite small and I met at least five siblings of the minister. The youngest was seventy-five. There was one couple with two children under the age of two. They pointed out the two-year-olds teacher. It was totally endearing. And I think the little girl was excited to have Lucy there to chase her around. I felt like I was in the movie Junebug.
As part of the event, we met several police officers for the city center of Greensboro. They said they hoped we enjoyed Greensboro so far. And that they didn’t visit our area very often. I told them considering my previous bedroom overlooked a homeless shelter, I was not expecting to have any problems. I definitely never expect to have the local lieutenant’s number in my phone to text with any questionable issue. Which I totally did in DC. ALL THE TIME. I did not request any cell numbers, nor did I tell them that story. The conversation quickly shifted to tree root balls and a massive sink hole in 2007. I’m certain that we will be back to visit the little church on the corner. I don’t know if we will join. But it is comforting to know that there is such a sweet community so close by. And they also make delicious desserts.