He replied almost immediately: “I’d be honored.”
We sat on the porch, my son beside us, cups of tea in hand. The conversation started slow, but gradually, it came alive.
He told us about moving to our town after losing his wife to cancer. About how difficult it had been to start over in a new place where no one knew him—not as a husband, not as a man in mourning, just as the “repair guy.”
He said he didn’t expect anyone to care. That most people barely looked him in the eye. And that the tea I offered reminded him, just for a moment, of the life he once had.
From Stranger to Friend
From that day on, something changed.
He started stopping by, not just for repairs, but for conversation. He helped fix the broken fence in the backyard. He taught my son how to patch a bike tire and clean a spark plug. He joined us for family dinners. He even came to our block’s potluck and made his late wife’s famous potato salad from memory.
Over time, he became more than just a helpful neighbor.
He became our friend.
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