There was this girl who moved in down the street from our house when I was twelve or so. She was a year younger than me and three years younger than Ellen. Her family showed up, found two of the only three little girls in the neighborhood, and forced us to be friends with their daughter. It's not that we didn't like her, its that the three of us neighborhood girls (me, Ellen, and Ari) already had a thing going and this immature interloper didn't understand how it all worked. But also her parents were the worst. They mistakenly thought their kid was likable and that we should want to hang out with her. She was kind of whiny and definitely over-opinionated for being the "new" person. everyone knows the new person needs to show some respect by keeping their thoughts to themselves. We don't know you and you don't how things work around here.
We tried to be nice. We had her over for sleepovers and brought her along for bike rides, but we just didn't click. She also lingered way past the obvious signals for her to go home. One weekend, Mom insisted we needed to say yes to her invitation for us to spend the night at her house. So we went, but I woke up at midnight with some kind of tummy troubles, and had to wake up her mom to call my mom to come get me. Ellen who can't stomach any sort of discomfort for the sake of others, decided she would just go home too because she didn't want to stick it out until morning. So this poor friendliness neighborhood girl woke up on Saturday morning and all of her friends had left. I'm sure that was confusing and disappointing - but also how did she not wake up during all of that? But then her hoity-toity parents felt that they and their daughter deserved some kind of apology and that's when my sweet mama had had enough.
My mama is the nicest lady you'll ever meet. She's petite and soft-spoken and pretty and gentle. She befriends the downtrodden, volunteers with old people, pays attention to your problems and will add you to her prayer list which is at least as thick as a phone book for a good-sized small town. She likes desserts and cats and wears enough hairspray that I sometimes worry when she walks past an open flame. She is a lovely humane being and there's nothing my mama wouldn't do to help a person in need.
But if you get unreasonable, the deal's off. Forget her manners, Mama will wave her finger guns at all y'all and be done with it. So when the bossy neighborhood girl started showing up unannounced, ringing our doorbell like we owed her something, Mama taught us that the best place to hide was up underneath the windows by the door. We'd hear the doorbell and the three of us would drop to all fours and army crawl towards the front of the house.
She taught us that this is the most polite thing you can do when you don't want to talk to somebody. Is it straightforward and honest? Hopeful of resolution? Not one bit. But they walk away assuming you weren't home rather than them leaving in shame having discovered that you think they're just a relentless burden. It's not rude. It's compassion! I watched Mom employ this tactic for her own unwanted visitors, and watching my beautiful, feminine icon of a mother slink through the hallway on her stomach made me feel proud to be raised by someone so kind.
As an adult in my own home, I arranged my living room so that my couch was beneath the window by the front door. I realized the error of my ways when a new neighbor knocked on the door while I was lounging on the sofa watching Gilmore Girls. I knew I had less than a minute before this curious extrovert would press their face into the window and see me laying there, looking back at them. I was in no state to answer door and also, I was taught not to talk to strangers. So I grabbed onto the corners of my blanket and ever so slowly rolled over the edge of the couch, wrapping myself in a blanket burrito as I settled on the floor. Then I laid there and waited. I heard the footsteps recede. Mom would be proud.
As I struggled to get up, the footsteps climbed the front porch again and knuckles knocked on the door. I became frightened. Why would they come back? Did they see me laying on the floor and decide to call my bluff? I wormed my way over over front door and sat with my back against it. They knocked again. What's with this guy? When I heard them go back down the stairs again, I stood up and peeked out the window. It was an older lady. She looked friendly, but also she wasn't leaving. Just standing there in the yard. That's when it occurred to me that she could need help, and my mama's kindness training kicked in.
I shrugged out of my blanket, preparing to save the old lady when I realized it would make no sense for me to answer the door after this much time had passed. She's been loitering for at least four minutes. That's equal to a half hour in unanswered door time. I needed an excuse, a reason why I had heard the knocking but didn't come out until now. So I did want any normal person would do; I put my head under the kitchen faucet, threw a towel around my shoulders and then barreled into the yard apologizing for being in the shower.
In the end she didn't need anything. Just wanted to meet the new neighbor. Just another relentless burden.
This post is a result of sitting to write about the kindness and compassion... things didn't go as planned.
