eunice

The week Justin and I moved into our house on 18th street, we met a lot of our neighbors.

One particularly hot afternoon, I was sweeping dirt and leaves off our driveway when I noticed three little toddlers coming my way. Accompanying them was an older, rather tall, black woman who walked with a sloppy gait and possibly unknowingly showcased her protruding belly above half-zipped, dirty pants.

She wreaked of alcohol but wore a huge smile.

I distractedly kept glancing at her lips as her swollen tongue poked left and right at random.

She spoke with a slight lisp, “My name’s Eunice, and these here little ones are my cuz, I mean, nieces and nephews: Darryl, Jarryl and ____.” (I can’t remember the little girl’s name.) I happily introduced myself and answered her small stream of questions, “Yes, we just moved in, we live here now. We are neighbors! My husband lives here with me. No, we don’t have another car. Yes, this is our first time living in Holden Heights.”

With that, I chit-chatted up the toddlers for a moment and we all waved goodbye.

Fast-forward to a few nights ago. Justin and I are sitting down at our dining room table (the only furniture in our house besides our bed and a couch that Diane gave us), I’ve been sick and sleeping all day, wearing my pajamas, husband has dressed-down to jammies… our doorbell rings, “Ker-plunk-CHING!” It’s broken and sounds really funny when it rings.

Justin and I both look at each other quizzically as if asking silently, Are you expecting someone? 

Justin opens the door and I hide behind it, waiting to see who are dinner-hour guest is. All I hear is, “Heyyy, I don’t mean no harm, just wanted to see Ammm-ber. Is she here? I haven’t seen her in a couple weeks and I knows she’d lives here. ‘She okay?”

Justin pops his head in and I nod, assuring him it’s okay. I run in to change into more appropriate clothing and run back to the door where Justin and Darryl are interacting… well, kind of. Justin said, “Hi, Darryl! I’m Mr. Justin,” and extends his hand. Darryl pulls back and mutters, “Leave me alone,” in his little boy, pouty, voice. Hmm.

Eunice lights ups when she sees me as if I’m some long-lost best friend, “ Amber! Well, hi! We’s were just wandering by and realized we hadn’t seen ya, and realizin’ we need to check on ya to make sure you okay. You okay?” I laugh politely and assure her I am fine, then introduce her to Justin, who has already done that himself. She awkwardly reaches for and embraces both of us. I try not to flinch or pull back as the grime and stench of her hair, shirt and general body odor momentarily overtake me.

We chat for another moment, then I duck back inside to grab Justin’s birthday balloon from two weeks ago… partially deflated but still floating atop our dining room table. I hurry back to the door and shove the balloon into Darryl’s little hand, which opens to joyfully receive it.

Justin and I say goodbye and hold each other around the waist as we watch them both toddle down our driveway and then return indoors to finish our dinner. We talk about why God sent Eunice, pray for her and the children and then talk about them later when we crawl in bed. We have no idea why God wants us here, but it’s been fun to figure it out one interaction at a time.