The yellow jeep is back. The jeep driven by my neighbor who—what’s the word—hmm—by my neighbor who resents me. Yes yes, resent is the right word, not too harsh, certainly not an overstatement. I am driving the little ones to preschool. The Earth sparkles with sunlight and dew, flush with birdsong. On the driver’s side door of her jeep she’s plastered a large green peace sign. The irony is not lost on me. A deep laugh bellows up and up from my belly. My heart softens a bit, too. Perhaps she wants to make some sort of gesture of reconciliation. I drive on, singing happily with my little ones. I can feel a change in myself regarding this matter of neighborhood resentment. There are no hungry shadows, only a glow of self-love embracing me. The arrows of blame rot in the seeping dew of morning.
Driving back I determine to keep my heart open. A peace sign is a peace sign, and it garners my respect. As I turn into our shared drive, my neighbor has just walked across it. She does not turn. She does not pause. She keeps walking. I chuckle, shake my head, and ease past to my beloved home.
Her resentment might live in her, but it will not live in me. I bless her on her path.