I've lived in the same place all my life. I've seen people come and go from our little neighborhood (or not so much, I live on a pretty busy road). The people that live right next to us are the same way - they have lived there just about as long as my dad has lived in our house. When my mom lived with us, she was best friends with both husband and wife - which meant I was over there all the time as well.
They didn't have children, leading them to consider me as their unofficial child. They invited me to their bonfires (along with my family, of course). They let me help out with yard sales. They took me fishing. They sat with me and let me vent to them a few days after my mom spoke of her leaving the house. They even through me a special 'Survivor' themed 7th birthday party - with a full fledged scavenger hunt and plenty of dressing up in tank tops and tribal bandanas. If you didn't notice, these people were a huge part of my life.
About a year ago, my neighbors mom died. She had lived all alone, so when she died the house went to her daughter. Since her moms house was closer to where she worked, they both decided they would try to sell the beloved house next to me and move.
Though they've yet to have a buyer, they've already begun moving into the other house. I've barely seen them at all within the past year. As a lovely reminder of how much appreciation I have for them, I slipped a note under their welcome mat as a friendly hello and an 'i miss you!'.
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