Are You a Good Neighbor?

It was a hot summer’s day. My kids were playing at a friend’s house so that I could get some writing done. I often loose myself in my writing, and this day was no different. I’d been on a roll and realized the time had come to get the kids because my friend had to get her kids to soccer practice.

I donned my sneakers, grabbed my keys and left the house on foot since it was only a ten-minute walk. My kids are both happy to walk if it’s in our neighborhood and it was a beautiful day. I half ran; half walked the short distance.

Within a few minutes I heard a strange, sharp pitched moan. It sounded like a cat that was hurt, or trapped. I slowed to scale the front yards for a furry animal. I couldn’t see anyone that matched the sound that carried on. Whatever it was, it was not a good sound.

I kept listening and made the sound. To my surprise, I found an elderly lady, who we all call Evie. She was lying on her side in her front yard with her arm outstretched at an awkward angle. A bag of soil and a trowel were next to her. Her beloved Azaleas towered above her.

“Evie, is that you? Are you hurt? What happened?” I opened the ornate gate to her property and rushed to her.

“Thank goodness you found me. I’ve been lying here for hours. No one can see me through the Azaleas.” She moaned.

I noticed she was shaking. Not good.

I don’t know much about medical treatment, but what I saw that day still haunts me. Evie needed my help, and quickly because I feared she was going into shock. Her arm was in a bad way with the bone sticking out and blood pooled from a big cut on her head.

“Hang on Evie. Help is coming.”

I dialed 911 and spoke to the operator who talked me through what to do. As I spoke, Evie’s shaking got worse. I saw a blanket on one of her Adirondack chairs and covered her with it. The operator told me to try and keep her calm and talking.

An ambulance was on its way.

It was the longest twenty minutes of my life. I sat on my feet with Evie’s head in my lap as instructed, holding her good hand in mine. Her body felt clammy and cold despite the blanket and it was in the mid-nineties in the sun.

Not a good sign.

We talked about her flowers. I always marvel at Evie’s gardening skills. Her flowers are tended with such care. I got her to tell me her secrets in taking care of her plants and her eyes lit up when she talked in between moans. She told me that her plants are like her children, and each one has its own program to blossom. I thought she was a little loopy at one point, but her plant stories made sense. She explained that a little something slipped in the compost made all the difference for one plant to shine. I was sworn to secrecy, so I can’t give more details.

Evie’s the friendliest old lady in the neighborhood. The kids love her generosity on Halloween. She didn’t deserve this pain.

The ambulance arrived and took care of her. She was in hospital for six weeks with a mild concussion, and a compound fracture of her arm. I saw Evie’s daughter, watering the flowers one day and she told me what happened. She didn’t know if her mom would have made it, if I hadn’t helped that day, and she thanked me.

I cannot believe how people can just walk by someone who is hurt. Evie had laid in her yard for hours. Why didn’t anyone help? I’m just glad it worked out. Nobody deserves to be ignored.

My name is Lizzy. I’m a trauma survivor, a wife, a mom, a teacher, and an author.

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