Last night was a very still, quiet night at our house. We share a driveway with our neighbors. Often we see their headlights shine into our kitchen as they return from eating out or a Hokie football game. Sometimes we hear them calling their cat Pippi to come home. All comforting sounds verifying that our world was continuing as it should. Routines soothe, calm, reassure the soul, erase anxiety.

Summer nights could bring their laughter spilling into the yard. “Hey come view the Northern Lights—quickly before they fade away.” “Join us for drinks on our new patio.”

A crisp fall afternoon brought a frantic call from our neighbor. A skunk with an orange stripe down its back was chasing him from his mailbox to his front door. Quite a distance for an afternoon jog.  As he passed our front yard, I beckoned him to run inside our house to safety. But he, the neighbor, made it to his front door without being sprayed. The skunk disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. Even animal control couldn’t find it. Order returned to our world. The neighbor was safe, no idea about the skunk, but the disruption was welcomed. A little chaos makes you appreciate order.

But last night was different—no headlights beaming onto our yard and sifting through our windows; no laughter drifting over to us; no anxious calls for Pippi.  Often she would be at our house stretched out on our deck that the sun’s eastern rays had warmed as they traveled westward.

The neighbors are traveling, too. Not west but east to North Carolina, away from us. Ciao my dear neighbors.

Cha-cha-changes have broken the circle, disrupted the routine, prepared us for a new circle, a new order.

Illustration: Unsplash–alona-savchuk-mkpSV2-_-Es-unsplash.jpg