Dear Austin St

     Tomorrow we are officially leaving little Austin St.  On Saturday, John, the mailman, knocked on our door to give us the boxes to send our cable boxes back in.  I guess he recognized what they were, so he asked if we were getting rid of Verizon and I told him about our move to California.  He seemed genuinely sad to see us go and commented on how he hadn't seen our change of address form come through.  I realized that is not the standard mailman interaction.  I have never been able to pick my mailman out of a lineup let alone have almost daily conversations with them.  So it got me thinking about all the little quirks about Austin St that make it so dear to my heart.
     John is high on that list.  We spend a lot of time in our front yard, so we see him at least once a week I would guess.  I should specify that we don't have mail boxes on the street so John walks to everyone's house.  We have a mail slot on our door that he just tosses the mail through on to the floor.  This seems to bother him cause he's always apologizing for it.  One Saturday during football season Caleb was sitting on the front porch with the door open watching a football game while the kids rode their bikes.  John came by and hung out for about half an hour and watched the game with him.  When Joe was just starting to walk John walked around the corner and said hi to Joe then stopped and said, "Man, that boy looks just like his daddy."  Which he does, anyone who has met my boys once can see that, but whose mailman knows that?
    Joann is also very high on this list.  Joann works at TWU and drives a little red scooter to work.  She's a beautiful woman with flowing white hair and a huge smile.  That's right she's our Austin St grandma on a scooter.  She used to park her scooter on the street in front of our house and one day I witnessed her scooter being backed into.  The girl appeared to leave a note, but it turns out it just had her phone number on it and she never answered the phone.  That's the day I officially met Joann.  Her scooter was damaged so that she couldn't drive it home, so I gave her a ride and we were friends from then on.  We also told her to just park in our driveway cause it was the 2nd time her scooter had been knocked over on the street.  If we were outside when she got done with work she would sit on the porch with me and watch the kids.  She quickly adopted us as her own and hugged me three different times when she came by to tell us goodbye.
    The next person on my list is Triathlon Girl.  The rest of these people we have named ourselves cause we've never officially met them, but see them often enough to feel like we know them.  Triathlon Girl is this super fit little bit of a girl who we always see running or biking.  We just assume she also swims and thus must be a triathlete.  She's legit too, I've only ever seen her sprinting.  Granted she lives 3 houses down from us, so we see her at the beginning and end of her workout, but I like to believe she sprints the whole time.  A couple months ago I'm pretty sure I majorly creeped her out.  We were walking back from the Rozell's and she was in her front yard with her dog in a skirt and t-shirt.  I've only ever seen her in workout clothes so as we got close and said hello I added, "you look cute today!" She gave me a weird look, and I realized she's usually sprinting by me as I sit in the shade on my porch.  She probably has never seen my face that well and thinks I am a stalker of some sort.  I awkwardly added, "I'm used to seeing you in workout clothes running by the house."  She gave me a polite smile, but I'm not sure she put together who I was.
     Next up, Figaro.  Figaro lives diagonally from us.  He likes to stand on his porch and play the accordion and he sings in this beautiful baritone voice.  I don't know if it's the distance and we can't understand him or what, but it sounds like he's singing Italian operas.  We've sat out there and listened to him sing many a night.  He also serves as the cheering squad for our front yard baseball games.  He's a discerning fan though, only cheering for really good hits that make it all the way across the street.
     And last but not least there's Safari Santa.  When the weather is nice, between 3 and 4 in the afternoon Safari Santa rides his bike down the street.  He wears one of those tan hard safari hats, and his long white hair and beard blow out behind him in the wind.  He has rosy red cheeks and always makes sure to wave really big at the kids.  I'm not completely convinced that Santa doesn't summer in Denton.
   I'm tired, so I'm not gonna check my grammar or spelling.  I'm just waiting for the washer to finish so I can put the last load of laundry I will do in this house into the dryer and then I'm off to bed.  Goodnight, sweet Austin St.