While I’m pulling into our driveway I see the moving van. It’s parked a couple houses up the street. I heave Vivi out of her car seat and wander down to chat with my neighbour, who is running between their house and the van.
They’re a young couple who’ve only been here a couple of years, and now they’re moving back East. I’m disappointed they’re leaving already. We never even had them over for a barbecue like we said we would. In fact, we never visited with them for more than a few minutes, only briefly interacting while lending a shovel or running into each other in the back alley. This is unfortunate because they liked music and canoeing and cross-country skiing. What was our problem anyway? What were we waiting for?
But there’s no time now. He’s not wearing mitts and his hands are getting cold. Besides, they’re busy and have other things to do besides making small talk. I wish him well, turn around and walk inside my house.
*I’m curious about failure. This post is part of an experiment where I observe moments I experience failure (in a broad sense) and record scenes without adding further explanation or perspective. Read more in the introduction to the series here.