Love is Blind

I had some neighbors growing up. I remember meeting lots of them during the first days that we’d moved to my childhood home when I was eight years old — standing around with them at the edge of our yard while they explained how to pronounce their surname and passed my parents welcome bags of homemade trail mix.

After that, we saw pieces of each other nearly every single day. They knew me when I was walking to the bus stop in a plaid…