It’s nice to be missed and I wasn’t angry

Near the bike shop.

I live in a small village in Miami. It’s a place where everybody knows your name. It is changing though, lots of development – over-development. Politicians sold the place out and our little village is turning into something else.

I only mention it because we have “Andy Griffith” spots in town. We call them that because they are gathering places where people hang out. If you’re looking for someone or some gossip, they can be found at the Andy Griffith spot, sort of like they did on the Andy Griffith show outside the courthouse or Floyd’s barber shop, etc.

In the past it was at a sunglasses kiosk that a friend ran. We all hung out there, put our feet up on the table and shot the breeze. We also hung out at art galleries and the book store, which was part cafe.

Now it’s the bike shop, which is in danger of being taken over by developers like all the other locations.

Anyway, after I had gotten towed, I wasn’t around. not for any reason other than I was busy and the few times I tried to stop by, I couldn’t find parking and wasn’t about to tempt fate again with the towing company.

But the funny thing is when I returned to the hang out and center of town on Friday, I had so many people call out to me and ask how my car was and asked if I got it back! Small village life.

Many thought I was still upset and didn’t want to return for that reason. Even close friends thought that. And I asked them, well, if you cared, you would have called or texted. And they said the same to me, that I would have reached out to them, too.

But it was just funny to have people asking about the car and the fact that they missed me; I had already forgotten about it and was dealing with other things. I guess it’s nice to be missed.

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