why i love/hate/love again Church Hill

I can walk to work in 30 minutes on a beautiful sunny fall day.
Friendly workmen greet me as I walk by. Greet. Not cat call. Smiles and hellos.

After a long, boring day at work, I can walk back home again through empty streets lit by lamps. The leaves are pretty, even in the dark.

I can walk up to my front door and notice...

that my bike....

is missing.

No.

It's effing stolen.

W! T! F!
UGH!
I hate this neighborhood!
You have to chain and double lock everything down! And my friend gave me that bike for my birthday. Those effers!!! Gawd dammit I hate thieving bastards!

And then...

at 9.

A knock.

On my front door.
It's my neighbor.

He says the roofers who were working on his house saw some boys take some bikes from our porch today. The roofers chased them down in their van. One of the boys dropped a bike and the roofer brought it back. The other bike is gone.

I go across the street and see my other neighbor bringing the bike out onto their porch. I look closely at it, and holy effing ish, it's the bike my friend gave me for my birthday. I thank my neighbors. We introduce ourselves.

Now, I'm making pumpkin bread for them and for the roofers.
I'll deliver it tomorrow.

I love my neighborhood.