Mr. R.

He walked from his car, scowling.  His eyes could pierce right though you.  Other than his coming and going to work, I didn't see him.  He was never outside playing with the family.

For 23 years he was intimidating, scary, unapproachable.

He shuffles down the block smoking his cigarettes, flipping his lighter.  He comments on the weather.  Asks about Josh's job.  Compliments our choice to homeschool.  Complains about the township.  Asks about our straw garden, my opinion on children's toys, and home improvement projects.

All this with a smile on his face.  I'm confused.

For the past 2 years, Mr. R. has baffled me.  He has been just the break this tired mama needs some days.  Some days the break comes in the form of a photo taking lesson.  Other days the break is him letting my 5 monkeys play in his backyard for 30 minutes or talking to them as he takes his walks around the neighborhood.

On Garrett's birthday he brought a card down for him with 5 dollars in it.  He calls Garrett, Roadrunner.  I like it.  It's all too appropriate.

I don't know what changed him.  Maybe it was retirement.  Maybe it was a couple of gorgeous granddaughters.

Whatever it is, Mr. R. is proof that you don't have to get grouchier with age and that you're never too old to change.  Just a couple of good things to remember.