I walked to the window,curious.
The changes in the yard made me pause.
The previously neglected flower beds had been redone, weeds cleared, soil turned over, and some flower seedlings had even been planted. The lawn was trimmed neat and tidy, no longer the overgrown mess it used to be.
Sunlight spilled across the yard, the newly planted greenery swaying gently in the breeze, the whole scene full of life.
My mood lifted inexplicably.
Maybe because seeing a previously lifeless place come alive, or maybe because finally having neighbors move in meant not staring at that empty house anymore.
A little girl was playing on the lawn, her red hair especially striking in the sunlight.
She looked about five or six, wearing a pink little dress, crouched on the grass, apparently observing something—maybe a bug, or a small flower.
Just then, the ball in her hands rolled away, over the fence, landing on my lawn.
"Oh no!" she exclaimed softly, running to the fence.
Then I heard her call out. "Mommy, my ball!"
But there was no response from the house—her mom was probably still busy.
The little girl pressed against the fence, trying to reach the ball, but she was too small, her arms nowhere near long enough.
Watching her struggle, I found myself smiling slightly.
Kids this age were always so fixated on these little things.
I took a deep breath, opened the sliding door, and walked toward the yard.
Hearing footsteps, the little girl looked up.
The moment she saw me, those eyes—
Brown.
I stopped mid-step.
That color, that amber tone in the sunlight...
For some reason, I thought of my mother's photos from when she was young. She had brown eyes like that, too.
But I immediately shook my head. Plenty of people had brown eyes. It didn't mean anything.
"Hello." I tried to make my voice sound gentle.
The little girl didn't respond immediately, instead studying me warily, small hands gripping the fence tightly.
"Who are you?" Her voice was soft, with a hint of nervousness.
"I'm your neighbor," I said. "I live in this house."
She bit her lip, seeming to debate whether to trust me.
"Your ball landed in my yard," I pointed at the pink ball. "Want me to get it for you?"
She looked at the ball, then at me, finally saying quietly, "Thank you."
