Neighbors

I was never blessed with good neighbors
and so when the wire that connected our
apartment complex’s electrical system
to the post snapped yielding
to the weight of that young wild tree
leaving us with no light for more
days after light has returned to the
entire street I knew I must go out
and knock at the three doors next to us:
the door of mormon missionaries,
children sent to the Philippines to be elders,
next to the door of a young couple and their two children,
and the door of an old couple and their dog.

I stood there with the two men
staring at the post
plotting a strategy to fix it
volunteering action in between
volunteering stories from our pasts
about how her mother lives alone
in Pampanga and about how his
children in Canada will take them
there soon.

I walked back to our door that night
inside a house still dark
lit only by two candles
but in my chest I felt
a light snap
a light whose brightness will fill
this house and beyond.