The Bensons seemed nice enough when we bought the house from them. The elderly couple had offered to help us with nearly every step of the process. They even baked us a plate of cookies the day we moved in. Their kindness made us feel like we were truly home. Living next door, we continued to be friendly to them although our relationship ever passed beyond being neighbors.
We exchanged waves when we drove by and smiles if we were both out gardening at the same time. We swapped mail on the few occasions the mailman mixed it up. We may have borrowed a few cups of sugar or milk. I know we traded plates of cookies at holidays and the men shared some of their power tools when a project needed to be done. They were all neighborly things to do.
The, we had children. The Bensons began stopping by more frequently. Being older and with most of their grown children living out of state, we thought they were just feeling grandparently. We didn't mind offering our kids up for a few extra hugs and kisses. And the extra hands were kind of nice on those days when the child's cry was consistent.
Soon, the talk turned to where they would be educated. They happily brought over schools they thought were the right match for our family. I would glance at the brochures, smile, and tell them that preschool was still 2 years away, at least. Still the brochures began to pile up with the pressure. And then came the questions about if I had read them and what questions they could answer for me.
So I started to read them. It became quite apparent that they were not interested in my children, but only their souls. Every brochure was from the same church.
*** Daily Writing Practice: I hate this entry but am posting it anyway, as unfinished and boring as it is. If I don't get back into the habit of writing, I am afraid I will lose myself in other less important things. ***
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