Karma pays me back

When I first saw my house I knew I had to have it. I was leaving on a five-week trip to Europe and I told my husband to try and get it for us, which he did. I was so in love with that house, from first sight to dramatic move in. It soon became a symbol of my marriage in my dreams. Whenever my husband and I were fighting I’d dream of trees falling into the roof and damaging it. If we calmed down and talked over the possibility of divorce I’d dream of watching strange people come through it looking to buy it. I’m still in love with my house; I still very much love my husband. But the divorce is in progress and the “For Sale” sign went up last week

When we first moved in I was so pleased with how many neighbors would stop by and say “hello, welcome to the neighborhood,” while I was outside gardening. There were a lot of hustlers; I’ll call them, trying to sell me things like tropical plants, smoke detectors, and bags of socks. I’d wonder, “Where did they get those giant plants?” Soon, three large tropical houseplants were stolen off our front porch. My next-door neighbor asked, “Why you don’t lock your front gate at night?” So we started locking the gate at night. But during the day the mail person needed to get in, the neighborhood beat officer stopped by on occasion and the alderman’s clerks would come through as well. So we’d unlock the gate each morning.

One sunny morning a lady came to my door selling candy bars. For her kids, she said, “They go to St. Martin de Porres right up the street and they sellin’ these candy bars to help pay a tuition.” She was well dressed but the clothes were unkempt and she wore a lot of makeup and a wig. “You new to the neighborhood?” I explained that we had just moved in and really loved it so far. “For real? I stay wit my kids right up on Waller.” She gave me an exact address on the street next to ours. “Here my kids, right here.” She said as she pulled out her wallet and a photo folio filled with pictures of children. I asked her why the kids weren’t out here with her selling the candy. She laughed and said, “You know what? They should be here. I bring ‘em wit me when I bring you da candy.” I looked at a laminated page of fundraising candy that had to be at least five years old. I knew something was up but I completely played along with her. I told her what I wanted and she recorded my order in a spiral notepad. Wow, no phony order sheet, just a notepad, I wondered what was next. It didn’t take long to find out, she asked for payment on my 16.oo order. I told her I only had a twenty and she looked around. “Well, there a bank right over there. I’ll go and get yer change.”

I don’t know why I did what I did next. I just did it, without pause. I handed her my money and watched her walk away with it. I shut the door behind me and had another cup of coffee and wondered if even the kids were real. I had my husband put a new lock on the front gate, install a mailbox accessible from the sidewalk, and we started locking the gate all time after that.

The other day I was returning from a walk with my dog. On the sidewalk in front of my house just below the “For Sale” sign was a twenty-dollar bill. I thanked Karma and went inside.

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