If I assume I am perfect, I will see nothing but fault in my neighbour. I walked out my front door yesterday and saw a sign in my neighbour’s front yard. “My Neighbour Is Normal.” I thought it was a little late coming but I was pleased by their opinion. It was like stepping into an alternate reality for a moment as I did not associate it correctly.
There is a beautiful building and park a block away. The building was once “the Normal School.’ I’m not sure what lead to its closure but I have always been disappointed I was unable to attend. It is becoming vulnerable to development and the community is rallying to have a say in its future. There are hundreds of signs up now but it is my neighbour’s that speaks to me.
To be accidentally recognized as normal was once a dream. When I would go on passes into town it was normal I sought. I wanted to shed the uniqueness of my life. I only wanted to drink a coffee among you. I only wanted to cut my grass and take out the garbage. I only wanted to find my food in a grocery store, not on a tray.
Now I live in a neighbourhood where “normal” is rampant and I am content to be immersed in it. I am normal, just ask my neighbour.