I know I’ve mentioned it before on here, but I love our street. I feel so lucky to not only live in my dream house, but also on my dream street.
Picture in your mind the perfect street in a small southern town.
Envision a short street, with a sidewalk of course, ten or so beautiful old homes, and giant trees. Picture it around seven in the evening. Add to that children riding their bikes, dogs in the front yard, screen doors slamming, and women working in their flowerbeds.
That is my street. And every single day this spring it has been like this.
I know my neighbors. I go to dinner with them. We call each other and talk. We’ll even leave notes in each other’s mailboxes letting them know we’re going out of town for a weekend so they’ll watch our house for us. We call the city about fixing street lights. We bring each other food if we’re sick.
I feel so blessed to have my street and the people who live there.