And Like a Good Neighbor . . . Becky is There

My husband, Dan, and I keep to ourselves. In the past, we have been referred to as the "quiet young couple." We are forty now, so I doubt that applies anymore. I have seen a lot of homeowners, who are younger than us, roaming around our subdivision.

Most of the time, Dan and I are pretty private.

There was that time I saved a dog and rescued a lady who fell off her bike. That's just all in a day's work for Wonder Woman though, and I am totally Wonder Woman.

Occasionally, we have spied on our neighbors, but no one has to know that.

However, one evening . . .

I was minding my own business, staring out the back window,

when I noticed smoke billowing from the back our neighbor's house!

"Does that look normal?" I asked Dan.

"It is a lot of smoke."

We watched out the window for a few seconds.

"It doesn't look like it's letting up either," Dan added.

"It looks like it could be coming from a kitchen. I don't think anyone would be barbecuing at this time of the year, do you?"

"Probably not," he agreed.

"I'm going over there," I said, putting on my shoes and coat. "Maybe I can tell if anyone is home."

I ran all the way to the cul-de-sac behind us. When I arrived, it was quiet. No one seemed worried, and no smoke alarms were going off.

One guy was raking leaves calmly in his front yard.

What's wrong with you? I thought. Don't you know the house next door to you is on fire?

In reality, I said, trying to catch my breath, "I was just checking to see if anyone was home at your neighbor's house. It looks like it's on fire from my house around the corner."

"Huh, it does smell a little like smoke," the man said. "Maybe you should check. His name is Jake. He lives there with his brother and maybe his mother."

He continued to rake his leaves.

The lights were on in Jake's house, and there were a couple of cars in the driveway. If the house were on fire, surely someone would be aware of it. I almost turned back, but I didn't want to seem weird to the guy raking his leaves or anything. I mean, I had run all that way . . .

A woman answered the door. I explained why I was there.

"It's just Jake burning the house down," she said. "That's what happens when he cooks."

I walked (slowly this time) back to my house.

"You were being a good neighbor," one of my other neighbors, who had seen me running by his house, said on my return. "Remember the house across the street there?" He pointed to a ranch-style house across the way. "That burned down a few years ago."

The other night, Dan found me in the office and said, "Our neighbor's house looks like it is on fire again. Do you want to run over there?"

"No," I replied. "I'm going to be like everyone else and ignore everything."

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