Being injured in an old home in disarray was unnerving. I couldn't bear weight on my left foot and while I essentially live on one floor there were two steps that precluded my easy movement to a comfortable largely glassed room where I could relax and watch the snow fall. I knew no one in the area save my contractor who was initially my lifeline. My three dogs were still in New Jersey as I was planning on driving back after the movers came, but that was not to be.
My best friend from New Jersey came up and essentially moved things around so that this old house became more like a home. She left and I was desperately lonely but I was home. A few days later a neighbor came to check in and introduce himself. Apparently he had heard the ambulance come and take me away. He is a retired engineer and approached me like a project, pad and pen in hand. We talked for a bit and he agreed to pick up my mail as there was no delivery here. He asked what church I belonged to and I told him I didn't belong to any, there was no time since my fall and that I was Jewish. He wrote everything down and gave him my mailbox key.
The next day I received a call from a woman who said that the neighbor had told her about me. She was Jewish, and since Passover was quick approaching she wondered if she could bring me something. The next day she brought some things and stayed about a half an hour, just long enough to be polite but not too long for me to be able to tolerate being out of bed. I now had a friend, or at least someone who had been friendly. To be continued.................
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