I try to figure out which neighbors are on vacation by the placement and pattern of their indoor lights. Then I start to think about the neighbors themselves, their triumphs and their tragedies.
There are a couple of ministers in the neighborhood, one of whom is a friend. He walks his dog late at night, and I've often wondered if he blesses the houses as walks by. Or at least offers up a silent prayer.
And that's what I found myself doing. Not blessing or praying so much as holding these people in my mind as I walked by. Thinking about the woman who lost her husband more than 20 years ago, when her boys were still in elementary and middle school; about the man who had knee replacement last year; about the woman I never see anymore and how ill she looked the last time we said hello.
And these, of course, are just a small sampling of the humanity here. Who knows what stories these houses hold, these peaceful suburban houses.