I remember the day the girl next door appeared

I live on South School Street near Kettleman Lane. I am 78 years young. My grandson works at Long's Drugs on Lodi Avenue.

That morning seven years ago I was walking home carrying a small bag from Long's. It was a nice winter morning, crisp and bright. I was enjoying the sunny chill until, suddenly, I slipped on something and went down on one knee. Then, I lost my balance and sat right down on my behind on the damp sidewalk.

The first thing I did was to look around to see what had been the cause of my fall. And then she appeared.

Now, I'm elderly but not old, and I didn't think that I had died. Nor did I think that it was an angel since Christmas was just around the corner. She wasn't a vision; she was the real thing. From her cotton candy puff of hair to her ballerina-style slippers, she was truly a sight.

Standing at my feet and looking down at me she said, "What are you doing down there?"

Not to be outdone by the perception I countered with, "Thinking about suing you, young lady."

Trying to squat down but finding it difficult, she stopped mid-squat and said, "Now why would you want to do that? Can I help you?"

"Don't try to butter me up," said I, "I slipped on your leaves that should have been swept up, not collecting on the sidewalk where a body could trip and did!"

"Those aren't my tree's leaves," she said, "They belong to the city, and so does the tree."

"Where do you live?" I asked, while holding onto the trunk of the tree and trying to right myself.

"Well, right here in front of you. I saw you sitting there and was just wondering what you were thinking and so that's why I'm out here. But if you're going to be rude, you can just sit there."

"Now wait just one minute," I said, standing now and looking for my bag. The woman went to the street and retrieved the bag.

"Thank you," I said, "but I still may sue you."

"Sue the city," she said and turned to go back to her house.

"I just may," I called after her.

"More power to ya," she said. She went into her little house and slammed the door.

I went home. My house is the same size as hers. I didn't know what hers was filled with, but mine had a TV and lots of loneliness. I thought about suing her just so that I could see her again. I walked by her house every day now in hopes of seeing her sweeping up those leaves or something. But I never did. Until I came up with a plan.

I went to Long's and bought some flowers. On the way home, I stopped in front of her house. There were leaves on her walk up to the front door. Halfway to the door, I pretended to slip and went down as I had done before. Since no one came running out, I let out a loud, "Awwwww." I was lucky that she was home; I couldn't have done this again. The door opened.

"What do you think you're up to now?"

"I am definitely thinking of suing you this time," I said.

"For what, trespassing?" she countered. I had put the bunch of flowers to the left of my fake fall.

"No, I was bringing you a gift and slipped on your leaves," I yelled.

"I told you that those are not my leaves nor is it my tree," she bent down and picked up the flowers.

"Possession is nine points of the law and the law says that those leaves are on your property. You possess leaves that caused me to fall!" I didn't know where to go with it from there.

"I suppose these flowers mean that you want to be forgiven for threatening me," she reasoned.

"They were just a nice calling card," I said getting up and brushing myself off. I let out a shallow groan just to show that some injury had occurred.

"I was just going to have some tea. Would you care to join me?" she turned and walked toward her house. Now we were getting somewhere, I thought.

"Well, we could discuss the case, I guess," I said tagging along behind.

The inside of her house was very much like mine. They had been built from the same tract about 50 years ago. What's appealing about this part of town is the trees.

The mood of her house seemed somehow less lonely than mine. It was probably that woman's touch. It was a feeling that had left my house soon after my wife died. We had our tea, and I found out that her name was Clancy. It could only have been, feisty as she was. She was a widow. She liked to crochet, work word puzzles, and walk in the rain. I admit I was smitten with the first fall.

I walked much more. I stopped to go in and see Clancy during the following year. We went to Lodi Lake for nature walks, she came to my house to nurse me when I had the flu, and we drove to Micke Grove to see the zoo and blossoms. I got to know her family and she mine. When I went to Long's Clancy joined me. We went on like that for a year until I had had enough. Enough of two houses and saying "good-bye" at the end of the day.

At almost the same time the next year, I was going to Clancy's on my way to Long's. She saw me coming and came outside, ready for the walk. I immediately fell to my knee. She said, "you tried that last year and the case never came to court."

"Well, I'm trying it again," I said.

"Didn't work the first time." She stood over me trying to figure it out. I handed her a bouquet that I had behind my back and I said, "Clancy McDray, will you marry me?"

She seemed startled and then shocked. But she smiled, bent over and kissed me. "You better get up before you get stiff."

"Not until I get an answer, young lady," said I.

"I'll have to sleep on it," she said and walked back into her house with the flowers.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey, yourself," she yelled back. "I'll marry you if you will quit making a spectacle of yourself out there."

So Clancy and I were married. Right there in front of her house under "our" tree.

Since the date was Dec. 25, our children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren had decorated it with lights and ornaments.

The angel on top looked like pink cotton candy with tiny pink ballerina slippers on her feet. So there were two angels on School Street that afternoon. And one very blessed, but sly, young gentleman.

Margie Omlor
Galt