My neighborhood actually has a resident witch. She’s a Wiccan in her mid-thirties who has a particular disorder which makes it so that she is more comfortable coming out at night (The heat gets to her). She’s always covered up in a coat or a shawl, and she teaches the neighbor kids about the different herbs in her garden.
But there’s more than one kind of witch.
My ideal writing life involves not only being awesome at writing and getting to write all day, but living as a particular ‘writer’ persona. I want to be the kind of person that the children of the neighborhood know about and are friends with. The adult who makes it easy on them, who talks to them like they’re adults, too.
Yes, you can play in my yard. No, I don’t care about the lawn or the bushes or the flowers. Play there any time you want. Want a cookie? Need to use the bathroom? Want to borrow a book? Explore my shed? Go right ahead.
I like children because they are new humans. They’re noobs, essentially, and I like being kind to them, though it’s too much responsibility for me to want to raise my own.
Since I moved into this house I have taken notice of the various children of the neighborhood, but I’ve never interacted with them. Until yesterday.
I pulled up to my mailbox and tried to roll down my window, but it wouldn’t go. Odd. I played with the button, but it was like the window was stuck tight. Annoyed, I got out of my car and got the mail, then got back in and finished parking in my driveway.
I collected my things and opened up the trunk of my car to take out my groceries. At that moment a young boy came walking up the property line between my neighbors house and mine on the left (there’s probably only about 15 feet between them).
He said hi, and I said hi.
Then I asked him where he lived. He pointed, and I confirmed, “The house behind mine?” He nodded.
The house he indicated is separated from mine by a wire fence hidden by shrubs and bushes. So now I know that he somehow bypassed the fence and was probably in my backyard.
I paused, then told him that he could come into my yard anytime he liked; I didn’t mind.
He smiled and said thank you. I asked his name. Jacob. I’m Savannah. He said Nice to meet you.
Cute kid. I turned to go inside and he asked if he could help with my bags. I laughed and told him no, that was fine, I could get them, but thanks for asking.
As I walked away he called after me, ‘Have a nice day!’
I laughed again. You too.
One small seed scattered. I remember being a kid and knowing that there were rules about property and yards and backyards, but those rules so often got in they way of how I wanted to play. I never understood why adults were so particular about their grass, for goodness sakes, and I still don’t understand it now.
I hope to see Jacob again, because he was a very nice young boy and I think I could probably turn him into a reader ;-) I’m very excited to be a Good Witch, and I think it’s off to a great start.
If my car window hadn’t have stuck when it did, then I would have missed meeting Jacob.
My car window is miraculously working just fine today. Magic?