I wrote this five years ago when we moved from Arkansas to Texas.  For some reason, I never posted it.   As you’ll find out below, now is the right time:

There are dozens of things I’ll miss about Little Rock, Arkansas.  But one of the things I’ll miss the most is the relationship between my 8-year-old daughter and our neighbors Janice and Don.

Kate has spent 90 percent of her life on Cleveland Street just outside The Heights in Arkansas’ capital city. The closest family we had was roughly 330 miles away.  Thanks to Janice and Don, we never felt alone.

“Dad, I’m going to see Janice and Don,” Kate would say as she slipped on her shoes and shuttled across the street.

“Kate, you can’t just go barge in their house,” I’d respond.

Apparently, I was wrong. She’d wave. She’d go. And she’d come back about half an hour later — usually with homemade bread or dessert.

Kate had grandparents in Texas who loved her endlessly.  Janice and Don had grandchildren in Arkansas who they loved just as much.  But they had a special relationship that was almost as close as family.

When Grandparents Day at school came around, Janice would be there.  When Laura got in a bind and needed someone to watch Kate, Don would sit on the porch with her.  And when we needed to put down our family dog after 12 years, Kate ran to Janice’s welcoming hug as Laura and I drove Bossier to the vet.

Kate’s at an age where she’ll make new friends and form new relationships.  But life has taught me there’s no replacement for this.

And for that reason, I’ll forever miss that special bond.

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Don died in December at 85 and we just returned from the funeral. 

Janice went around and introduced our daughter to her friends: “this is one of my grandchildren.”