John and I seem to always have different schedules from the neighbors who share our cul-de-sac, and our interactions with most of them are often limited to polite waves through the car window or quick chats at the bottom of our mountainous driveway while our dog explores a square foot of grass.
One of our neighbors, whose son grew up with my husband and was a groomsman in our wedding, left a gift bag on our mailbox sometime yesterday afternoon. The bag was addressed to Taylor; inside, wrapped in carnation-pink tissue paper, was a crisp white baseball cap with the golf brand ‘Taylormade’ in pink lettering.
When we walked across the street to thank her earlier tonight, we spoke with her for the first time in weeks.
People come in and out of everybody’s lives – it’s just the way things go sometimes. And the subject of Taylor doesn’t come up in most of those in-the-driveway-with-an-impatient-dog conversations with my neighbors. But every once in awhile, my family is reminded – by small tokens left on our mailbox or otherwise – that while good people may not ask about Taylor every day, they never forget.