A drawing of a home in Garneau

Urban Dream

My heart feels broken. I watch from my front yard where my neighbour’s giant blue spruce stretches across their lawn, hewn at the base, branches sagging to the ground. Such a beauty. What were they thinking?

I know… in my mind I know they were thinking of moving. In my mind I remember hearing, “This house is not quite right. Our tastes have changed. Doesn’t everyone want a new house these days? Easier to keep clean. Open concept. Sharp lines. Spacious kitchens.”

I try to talk to them. I shout at them through the branches lying between us.

They continue to smile and discuss their plans.

I wail!

“What about our afternoon coffee times, our discussions of the back alley problems and our clever comments about our neighbourhood? What about our plans to set up neighbouhood children’s’ art classes? What about our plans to live here forever? Who will care about my children the way you do? You must want to stay for all these things that matter!”

My neighbours smile at one another pleased with their decision.

We had always said our identical side-by-side houses, built the same year, were perfect. We became friends instantly on meeting over the fence. So much in common. Of one mind. Our constant jokes.

I wake up, a wave of despondency still with me. A dream! What a relief to know that we are sleeping sheltered still by the neighbours large blue spruce.

Things