Revelation in the 'hood

We don't have much contact with our neighbours on one side. Other than the "Good morning", "Hello" and occasional "How are you?" I can count on two hands the number of conversations we've had with them.

When they're not around we talk about them. About the way she's always the one shoveling the snow, painting the fence or hanging laundry. About "his" tomatoes that she always seems to be tending. About the grandma who sits on the front step and keeps watch over the flowers and the neighbourhood. About the boys who stride across our parking spot and acknowledge our presence with a cursory glance. About the number of male inhabitants compared to the number of females who seem to be looking after the place.

Today I caught a glimpse of something else. One of the house-work-challenged, always-running-off-somewhere sons was out by the basketball nets...without his brother or his friends. I blinked. He was out with his grandma, coaching her on how to shoot hoops. I watched for a while. His patience and quiet respect were evident - even from a few hundred yards away.

Although I can't vouch for his work ethic, clearly I've been too hasty to assume the worst. Instead of the usual arrogant, demanding, self-absorbed behaviour, I caught a glimpse of something more - a young man who loves his grandmother.