She pulled out of her driveway at approximately 6:51 a.m. I know this because I was sitting in my study peering out my window which allows me a perfect view of who’s coming and going up and down my street. Her driveway is in my line of sight. Thinking it might have been her husband, I sent a quick text message to verify my assumption. Not her husband. It was her with a sick kiddo making an early trip to see the doctor. That’s how we roll out here in my neck of the woods. There are a handful of us who have a true community. When we run out of something, we can the others first to check before we make a trek into the grocery store. More times than not, the other can supply what is needed and a trip to pick up the one missing item is no longer needed. We are each other’s babysitters and often get mad when one of us actually hires someone to keep our kids. I haven’t always lived like this as a grown-up. I admit there were some neighborhoods where I barely knew my neighbor’s names. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part because rest assured, my mother informs me that I could strike up a conversation with a tree…just like my father could. Maybe it’s because we have kids that are all the same age who play together. Maybe it’s because we are all outdoors kind of people. Maybe it’s because we live so far out of the city that we need the company. Or maybe it’s because we truly like each other. While some people don’t know what their neighbor does for a living, I know that mine is a personal trainer and has three different clients that day after she teaches her spin class. There are those who couldn’t address their neighbor by their name if they had to. I know the first, middle, last and even maiden name of the woman behind me. I know their birthdays. I know their favorite foods. I know what type of creamer they like in their coffee. I know when their kids are visiting and when they are with their dad. I know which kids like ketchup and which ones don’t. And I know which ones will come and accuse the others and act like angels. Of course, it’s not my five-year old. Never. For someone whose family lives in another state, I am so thankful for my neighborhood family. They “complete” me. My challenge: Consider befriending one or two of your neighbors and see if a door opens for an amazing friendship. You have no idea what you might be missing.