I went to the local store and purchased several watermelons. It’s summer and there are an abundance of watermelons at every grocery. Everyone loves watermelons but you can use almost any large fruit if you don’t fancy the seedless wonder.
I write my name and house number in large lettering on the outside of the watermelon with a Sharpie. I attach a little note introducing my family and myself and give them my contact info – email, phone number, blood type, background check, credit score. I also add the ages of my kids just in case they have munchkins tied up somewhere in the house and that’s the reason the streets and yards are so desolate.
I load up my 100 lbs of watermelons in the red wagon, grab the hands of my two cute kids, (well, they are cute after I bathe them, brush their hair and wipe off the mac and cheese stains from their faces) and head out the door to deliver my “Hello, didn’t’ you see the big moving truck? I’m new and I’m here!” gift.
We knock on the first door; no one’s home. I leave the watermelon on the porch. I knock on the next door; no one’s home. I leave it on the porch. My daughter looks up at me and asks, “Why are we doing this, again?”
Yes, sweet child, it is anticlimactic.
I respond with my best teachers’ voice, “We are acting liked gardeners. We are planting seeds of friendship with watermelons, hoping to grow friendships with our new neighbors.”
Every door we knocked on, no one was home. With sad faces, we dropped off each watermelon and went home . . . and waited.
