Angelus News | July 31-August 7, 2020 | Vol. 5 No. 21

HEATHER KING
site. Ruby, 2, shows off her new canary
yellow Reeboks.
Hortensia, my next-door neighbor,
is some kind of saint who works as a
special education teacher, lives in a
small studio, and is helping put her
daughter through college. She texts
me on liturgical holidays with Virgin
of Guadalupe emojis, gave me a lovely
Christmas cactus last December, and
more recently, returned home from
Target with her mask and shield and
presented me with a bag of fancy,
individually wrapped chocolates. “For
you, mija! You let me know if you need
anything, OK?”
Attending daily livestream Mass in
my bedroom, at the sign of peace I’d
silently greet these neighbors by name,
bless them, and wish them well. At
dusk, I often sit in the garden and pray
a rosary, again silently including the
people with whom I’m surrounded.
Introvert though I am, I love our little
ecosystem. My role at the compound is
unofficial groundskeeper.
A crew comes in once a week and
does the heavy lifting, but I’m constantly
puttering around weeding, picking
up litter, clipping, repotting. I’ve also
taken it upon myself to plant and care
for a large backyard California native
plant garden. The upshot: If I croak
alone in my apartment, I’m not going
to lie there till mummification sets in.
If I didn’t show up for a day or two,
someone would definitely notice.
The quarters are somewhat close and
that leaves room for trespasses, too.
“Whoops, I forgot my clothes in the
washer and you were waiting to use it,
so sorry.” “Yikes, I watered the plants
on my balcony and some dripped
down to your patio below: That was
clumsy of me, so sorry.”
That’s how real life is lived: not in
op-eds and Twitter feeds, but rather
in a thousand tiny exchanges, acts of
forbearance, and forgiveness. Real
life is the new tenant asking, “What
day do they come for the recycling?”
It’s shared wonder: “Look, there are
already tiny green fruits on the persimmon
tree!” It’s the small sacrifice: “I’m
going to Trader Joe’s, can I get you
anything?
Real life is a hurried hello in the
morning, a shared moment out in the
driveway at dusk. A “What’s up?” and
“Good Lord, it’s hot today!” and “Did
the mailman come yet, do you know?”
That’s how real life is lived. And I
wonder as well if this isn’t the way real
change takes place, because what do
we really have to offer one another
except a welcome, a lovely garden, a
place at the table?
As Binx Bolling says in Walker Percy’s
novel “The Moviegoer,” “There is only
one thing I can do: listen to people,
see how they stick themselves into the
world, hand them along a ways in their
dark journey and be handed along, and
for good and selfish reasons.”
Ideology — the imposed groupthink
that increasingly marks our culture
— is one-dimensional, has no sense
of humor, and is boring. Reality is
tragicomic and human.
The other day I ran into Brandon and
little curly-headed 3-year-old Leo in
the backyard. The kid gazed lovingly
up at me, pointed a chubby finger
and burbled a word that sounded like
“Huchhhga” and that I took to be
“Heather.”
“Oh cute!” I exclaimed. “He knows
my name!”
“Unhh,” Brandon replied. “I think
he’s saying ‘Granny.’ ”
Heather King is an award-winning author, speaker, and workshop leader. For more, visit heather-king.com.
July 31-August 7, 2020 • ANGELUS • 33