I don't really know the people who moved in next door to me late last fall. I saw the lady out one day and introduced myself, but haven't seen much of them all winter. This made me think of other next door neighbors I've had in my lifetime. Tonight I will talk about the first one.
Mrs. Crevastin was my first next door neighbor. This was at my early childhood home; the one where I sat upstairs listening to my sister's records, and pretended to be Laurie Partridge. Mrs. Crevastin lived alone, and to me she seemed very old. She had snow white hair, and wore the thickest glasses I'd ever seen. They looked like a kaleidoscope. Mrs. Crevastin always had a pitcher of cold water in her refrigerator, and when I'd go over for a visit, I always asked for a glass of it. While I was in her kitchen, I'd look up the staircase that lead to the second floor of her house. It was narrow and to me it seemed like that part of the house was forbidden. I guess she only needed the first floor, and had pretty much closed that area off. Of course I'd always ask if I could go up there. I was always told "no" and shooed back into the living room, where I promptly got in the floor. I thought she had the softest carpet I'd ever touched. To me it seemed pink. Maybe it was salmon colored. I'd lay on it like a kitty cat and squirm around so the soft, fluffy rug would tickle my arms, legs, and face. Mrs. Crevastin always wore a dress and black shoes that laced up and had a heel. The same type of shoe my grandmother wore. She was a nice lady.
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