news-record.com

Many years ago, a woman known as Alma Moore lived in Greensboro. Across the street lived a little girl and her family.

At times, the girl's mother could not be home when she got off the school bus. Moore would watch the girl until her mother got home.

Moore would sit the little girl down at her silver-rimmed kitchen table, pull a small glass from her cabinet and offer the little girl some Pepsi.

This delighted the little girl, as she usually drank Coke at her house. Moore also would offer the little girl a snack to go along with the drink. The two would make basic conversation, the sweet conversation that an adult makes with a 6- or 7-year-old.

The sights, sounds and smells were different at Moore's house. Cats were in the kitchen, and you could hear dogs barking in the backyard. You could hear the humming of an aquarium in the living room and the tweet of the bird in a cage in the bedroom.

Often, from her own house in the morning, the little girl could also hear a rooster crow from Moore's backyard.

There were no animals at the little girl's house. Stepping into Moore's yard and house was like visiting the countryside.

During her short after-school visits, the girl could go look at the fish in the living room. She was intrigued by the large goldfish swimming among the smaller fish in the long aquarium.

Waiting on her mother to return, the girl would work on her homework or explore some more.

Moore kept a baby doll in her bedroom closet. She let the girl play with it as long as she was careful. The girl was always careful.

A violet glow came from a back bedroom where Moore kept all sorts of plants growing under fluorescent lights. Rarely did the little girl go back there.

The floors were hardwood. Furnishings were minimal, but clean and neatly kept.

The little girl was afraid of dogs when she was small, so she never went in the backyard. She did know that chickens lived back there in their own habitat away from the dogs.

Once, when the girl was visiting, she got to hold a baby chick. It was soft and fuzzy, but she did not hold it long. The chick had wet her hand, and being a prissy little thing, she handed the chick back to Moore and ran home as fast as she could.

Moore grew lots of vegetables in her backyard. The little girl had to take everyone's word for it, as she was not about to go into Moore's backyard, because of the dogs, you know. The dogs could bark very loud. The girl peeked through the fence from time to time, safely from the porch, so she had an idea of what the yard looked like, though she never did go beyond that fence.

Most of Moore's front yard was a flower bed. She had neat little rows of flowers, irises mainly, that she grew year after year with much tender care.

The girl loved walking among the many rows of irises, careful not to walk on them. She loved the soft pastels of purple, yellow, blue and white. Moore would sometimes cut a few for the girl to take to her teachers.

Moore also bought ladybugs through the mail. She would keep them dormant in her refrigerator until spring and release them into her gardens to keep certain pests under control.

Moore had split-rail fences on each side of her yard where she grew grapes. The grapes would wind their way around the rails as they produced the sweet and wonderful fruit. Moore would share with the little girl's family.

Once a week, the girl's mother would make salmon patties. Leftovers were wrapped in foil, and often the girl would carry some over to Moore. The girl never knew if Moore ate them or fed them to her cats.

The girl's mother would sometimes drop her daughter and Moore off at Mayberry at lunchtime. It was a special time for the little girl to go out to eat with this neighbor who showered her with attention.

After lunch, they sometimes walked around the shops at the center until the girl's mother returned to take them home.

As the little girl grew into a teenager, she no longer needed to stay at Moore's house. In the evenings though, if the teenager saw Moore on her porch, she would go over to talk from time to time.

As the girl left, Moore would always tell the teenage girl to "be a good egg," an old-fashioned way of saying, "be a good girl." It made the teenager giggle to be called a "good egg," but it warmed her heart. She hoped Moore would never stop calling her a good egg.

After high school, the young woman started dating her husband-to-be. She was amused and embarrassed to be told that Moore had informed her mother of her long goodbyes at the front door with that young man.

When the couple was planning marriage, Moore volunteered to watch their car during the wedding so that it didn't get messed up. This allowed the young couple a clean getaway.

A few months after the couple married, they pulled into the bride's parents' driveway and saw an ambulance in Moore's driveway. Moore had passed in her sleep.

Years later, someone else lives in the house, the flowers are not tended to, and the animals are long gone.

Some said Moore loved animals more than people, but this little girl, now grown, knows just how much Moore loved her.

Moore lived modestly, yet gave so much by sharing her life with others.

I will never forget her.

Linda Vestal is a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend living in Gibsonville. Contact her with comments or story ideas at lindavestal@triad.rr.com.