This week, for the first time in my life, I wrote a thank-you note to two dogs.
Their names are Molly and Daisy.
Most mornings, Jolli, my little Morkie, and I head out for a walk through the neighborhood. I like to mix up our route depending on the breeze, the shade or simply what I might discover along the way. Jolli has a different opinion. As far as he's concerned, there's only one route worth taking.
I enjoy wandering past the Little Free Libraries tucked into front yards throughout the Beaches. I love that each one reflects the personality of the neighbors who built it and care for it. Some are brightly painted. Others are simple and weathered from years in the Florida sun. Even though my husband and I do most of our reading on our Kindles these days, every now and then a book from one of those little libraries still finds its way home with me.
But one library has become Jolli's favorite stop.
Just beneath the books is a small wooden box filled with dog treats, courtesy of Molly and Daisy. Long before we reach the house, Jolli picks up his pace, already eager to visit Molly and Daisy's treat box. For him, it's the highlight of our walk.
After months of accepting their hospitality, it suddenly struck me that I had never said thank you.
So I took a picture of the house number, knowing I'd never remember it by the time I got home. Later that day, I mailed a thank-you note to the family, thanking them and, of course, Molly and Daisy for making our morning walks a little brighter.
Writing that note got me thinking about the many ways neighbors quietly contribute to what makes the Beaches so special. It wasn't that I hadn't noticed these things before. I had. What surprised me was realizing just how many there are.
Some neighbors build Little Free Libraries that introduce strangers to their next favorite book. Others leave treats for dogs they've never met. I recently learned about a small neighborhood pantry stocked with personal hygiene items for anyone who might need them. And I've noticed more and more homeowners replacing thirsty lawns with native plants that welcome butterflies, bees and other pollinators.
None of these things are done for recognition. They simply reflect people choosing to leave their little corner of the Beaches a little better than they found it.
Jolli still thinks the best part of our walk is Molly and Daisy's treat box.
As for me, I'm grateful they reminded me to pay a little closer attention to the people whose quiet acts of generosity help make the Beaches such a remarkable place to live.
