Where on Earth is that street? I knew I should have bought a map when I picked this car. Although, when I purchased the car, I had known every street of my home town. Now, everything has changed. My mom remarried and decided to move us to sunny Southern California, where her new husband lives. I frankly don't mind a bit. The dry warm weather of California was by no means similar to Neah Bay, but much more preferable because of the warm beaches. I turned down another street to find myself on the same road I had been on five minutes ago. I pulled over to get my head on straight.
As I sat in the car trying to remember which streets I had already ventured down and which ones had been left undiscovered, a girl walked by the car. But not just any girl, definitely a local, and she was rocking out. She danced down the street like it was her personal stage. Adorning this enchanting girl included: a backpack hung from one shoulder, headphones placed in her ears, an iPod clutched by her right hand, and a worn novel grasped by her left. I had no idea what told me she lived around here. Could it be the California tan? Could it be that eyes closed, walking down the street, music blasting, she still knew which direction she was going? Would she know what house I was looking for?
I started up the engine and pulled up beside her. I leaned over the center console and passenger seat to roll down the window of my ancient truck. She stopped dancing, paused her music, took out her headphones and turned towards me.
"Can I help you?" Her voice flowed through my ears like the sweetest melody ever composed.
Finding my voice after getting lost in hers, I answered. "Yeah, I'm lost. I'm new to the area and can't find my new house." I handed her a slip of paper with the address scribbled on it. As my fingers lightly grazed hers, I felt a spark between us ignite a fire in the pit of my soul. Either she felt it, too, and ignored it, or she didn't notice the instant heat that seemed to be caused by our close proximity.
She quickly glanced down at the paper and her head shot back up. Her face brightened with a stunning smile as she said, "So you're my new neighbor."
"It would appear that I am. Do you know which direction I should be driving in?" She laughed at the obvious relief in my voice.
"Make a right up there. Your house is the two story, burgundy colored one. Mine is the one on the right. Once you get settled in, let me know if you want me to show you around." She offered, after writing down her phone number on the same paper with my address.
"I will. Thank you…" I would have said her name had I known what it was.
"Melody," she responded.
"I'm Eric. Thanks so much."
"Any time." She winked back. I drove down the street and looked back into my rearview mirror to find my rescuer dancing again with her music playing. Melody. What a perfect name for my new next door neighbor. I think I would very much enjoy living in California.
