Good-Neighbor-Liness Disease

She had the disease only small-town women usually get But she got it, and she was a New Yorker. Born and raised on three blocks. An anomaly. Always wanting to help someone Asking if we needed anything Arranging the cakes for others weddings Never having one of her own Babysitting other’s children Never confessing to one herself. A friend to the friendless A pillar on the block The go-to-person who always went Who always came Who was the first one. She died of Good-neighbor-liness, And we were all the recipients, Taking more than we gave.