Lamyra Lyon taught me to drive in her chocolate brown 1966 Pontiac Lemans. While a key life skill, it didn't compare to what else she passed on. Lamyra was a poet and a teacher. The lesson I recall most often is her claim--"If someone hands you a gift (or compliment) it's like handing you a cream pie. If you don't receive that gift graciously, you're pushing that cream pie back in their face."
I was sure it was my neighbor's problem. She's fed my cats, all 7 of them, over the years, with me on trips longer than a month. She's the kind that will actually sit with them and let them scold her. She has shared the fruits of her gardens, brought little gifts on holidays, picked up mail, put the garbage out on the street. If the power is out, she is the first to make a bed by her fireplace. She has my extra key. I figure I must have done something really good in a former life to have moved in two doors down from this lovely woman. But there is one thing that nags me about this relationship. This neighbor will not let me do anything in return. Can't take/cook her a meal. Can't do anything reciprocal. So of course I do, but it always feels awkward. I've been bothered by her reluctance to receive anything from me. And why it bugs me. It feels like being held at a distance, which encourages me withhold.
