When the sun comes out

…the neighbors do as well, and it’s a good thing.

I grew up in San Juan, P.R., and went to an American private school. I was really shy — I mean, super shy. I never grew out of the shyness until I was forced out of it by a vitriolic boss who precipitated to my defending myself (and my job) by learning how to fight back by being outspoken. Basically, this means that I stopped being shy about six years ago. Living in a floating home community has made me even more social, and because of this, I know most of my neighbors, and I even consider many of them to be good friends.

When the weather starts warming up, we come out of our homes, all pallid and pasty, and see what the dreary Pacific Northwest winter has done to our usually tanned complexions. We’ve had a few good weekends so far, so some of us have started to darken. Some of us might even already have had our first (and probably only) sunburn for the year, and caught up with what what we’ve missed out on in each other’s lives while we were huddled in our individual caves. As of right now, I know that one neighbor, who volunteers at the Audubon Society, was thinking of asking Jared and me if we’d like to become duck foster parents. However, we apparently need a yard to qualify, and a floating deck is not considered a yard. I also know that more than just a few neighbors heard angry yelling coming out of one of the nearby houses — the neighbor across the way asked us if it was us, jokingly. (I thought someone had fallen in the water…alas, it was just young people fighting the way young couples are known to do.)

Anyway, my point — and I do have one — is that had I been super shy, I would not have had such interesting human interactions with my neighbors. I still think my old boss is a sad excuse for a human being, though, and she will never get any credit for me coming out of my shell.

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