As much as my Dad worries, and as tedious as setting the alarm and closing the curtains every time you leave the house is - Spring really reminds me why I love the Oklahoma City neighborhood I live in: an intermix of socioeconomic statuses, every street different from the next, overgrown flowering brambles, plenty to look at while running because absolutely nothing is the same, wild dogs, ragtag children, homes designed from a bygone era.
There's this woman who lives by us on a corner lot and right around 5pm (and sometimes even early in the morning) I catch her sitting out in her yard in a white, plastic Adirondack chair, completely and totally engrossed in a book with several dogs running around at her feet.
Out there until the sunset fades.
Her parched lawn fenced in by chain link, transformed into sandy beach.
Spring seems to be her season - but I've also seen her out in the winter bundled up like an Eskimo, eyes peeping through a tightly drawn hood.
I love it, warms my heart: proof that having the good life is really quite simple sometimes.