Neighbourhood

Word count 326

Samuel Green built his house in the countryside fifty years ago, proudly carrying his beautiful bride, Margery, over the threshold after their wedding. Since then they have survived everything that life can bring, tears, joy, laughter and drama.

At first they were alone, in the only house on the street. Their vistas were fields, herds of cows, which rested in the shade. It was beautiful then. Their children ran around barefoot, swinging on the old tyre swing Sam hung from the ancient Morton Bay fig tree at the bottom of the street.

Over the years more folks arrived, but the lots were large and each had their privacy.
The first to arrive were James and Sarah, turning up in an old caravan in which they and their children lived while they built their timber house. The two families became great friends, the children grew together, sharing the swing on the old fig tree.

Almost imperceptibly, the district became urbanised. Street lighting, paved roads, schools and shops turned the quiet countryside into a town.

Years later when they retired, James and Sarah, left the street to live in a granny flat at the back of their daughter’s house. Their old home sold to a developer, demolished, and in its place a retirement village built.

Behind Sam and Margery’s, a new primary school sprang up, their playing fields overlooking their house. Sam collects the balls which fly over the fence, returning them at the end of each term.

The Morton Bay fig tree is fenced off, sadly no longer accessible for young children to enjoy.
What a difference fifty years have made to Sam and Marge’s life, they have slowly been enclosed against their will.

But Sam and his wife have accepted the changes and the newcomers, realising they are someone’s neighbours too. The elderly couple only know their old red brick house still stands, as it always has, a happy home, whether alone or in a crowd.