I allowed myself the dream

For eight years I have lived next door to the walking PSA for alcohol abuse...

The first time we met our new neighbor it was over a conversation about fences. Yep, fences. (Serious irony here.) My husband and I were surprised to return home from a weekend out of state to find a new fence put up along our property line. A fence much higher and more conspicuous than any of the other fences in the neighborhood. And one which violated the city ordinances. (A fence, I must admit, I was quite glad existed as time went on and we got to know just what kind of neighbor we had.) When we explained to him that we had already begun replacing the old fence in our yard and wanted to match it all around and asked him if we could work together on this, he said we could and then continued to do what he wanted.  This was both an introduction and, sadly, a recurring theme. A theme which only got bolder as time marched on.

Our second visit included a tour of his home (my brother still questions my sanity on this one), which looked more like the inside of a party store. The kitchen cupboards were absent what you would expect and instead contained nothing but alcohol. The same goes for the top of the cabinets. And the refrigerator. And the counters. Small talk in this space involved mention of a “something-something” job he had on the side that he “didn't like to talk about,” as well as the six DUI convictions he had been “awarded” by the time he turned 28. We had the full story of a book I am sure we never need have opened.

Subsequent visits involved his waiting for us in our driveway drunk and high, screaming, refusing to leave, and once even insisting he was going to take a tour of our house. Then there was the time my husband came home from work to find our neighbor's father weed wacking our lawn (which if you know me at all~touching my yard is a big no-no). This is to say nothing of the many nights of being jarred out of sleep by the loud music and/or power tools. He usually started his “days” at 5pm, and assumed everyone else did as well.

Then this past March, he performed his coup de grace. He flew across all the lawns and sidewalks in the subdivision on a snowmobile, going about 45 mph. When I told my Dad about this he said, “but there wasn't any snow...” to which I responded ,“Dad, you have met the man...” God bless my dad for trying to apply logic to an alcoholic; I fell into that trap more than once myself. Finally everyone else in the neighborhood got a dose of what my husband and I have been dealing with all these years. When I looked out the window and saw three cop cars racing down the street, combined with the fact that my neighbor never came home that night, I felt glad that for once justice was served. This time, I wasn't the one who had to call the cops; several neighbors beat me to it. This time, I was vindicated.

I have not, admittedly, been like Jesus with this neighbor. I was getting so frustrated and angry about him, that at a certain point, I am sure there was nothing he could do that would not bother me. Call it a cumulative effect. But considering I was expecting my first child in mere months after the snowmobile incident, my frustration turned into prayers that either we would be able to move, or that he would. The worry of having runaway snowmobiles running my daughter over in the front yard, or whatever other dangerous behaviors she may be subjected to living next door to an alcoholic did not sit well with me. So I prayed. And prayed.

And then it happened....

First there were trucks and trailers in the neighbors driveway everyday...

And my husband told me not to get my hopes up...

And then there were appliances being moved out...and his bike... (his only means of transportation, since the judicial system had long ago taken his driver’s license away)

And still my husband cautioned against reading too much into it...

Then there was the mattress and BBQ grill along with about 20 or so bags of trash on the curb... 

Then even my husband started to get excited...

When a man appeared a few days later, taking pictures of the house... 

We could be sure...

And so it was, that God had answered my prayer. I only pray we don't get someone worse.