Lurking Lady with a Camera

When I arrived back at my house from walking the dog this afternoon, a lady was lurking about, wielding a camera, but I didn't think much of this-- maybe she wanted to take some pictures of my wife's lovely . . . but autumnally decaying garden?-- and then the lady worked up the courage to talk to me and it turns out that she was raised in our house until she moved out of it in 1987 . . . she's forty now and has a couple of kids and lives in Rhode Island-- which she says is quite a bit like Jersey, although people from Rhode Island don't like to hear that-- and she nostalgically remembers her time in Highland Park and claims it is a town like no other-- and she was so sweet that I invited her in to see all the work that has been done to the house since she moved away . .  and then my wife came home from giving blood, and a couple of the neighbors were out and we all congregated in our driveway and went over the history of the neighborhood as we knew it . . . and it makes me wonder what's going on inside the house where I grew up-- but I doubt I'll lurk around my old house with a camera, because I'm not an innocuous-looking middle-aged lady, I'm a sketchy-looking middle-aged man (and I was particularly decrepit looking this afternoon, as I had to dress like a particular student today-- and she had to dress like me-- so I was wearing gray sweatpants and a Pink Floyd shirt and a zip-up hoodie . . . and this student did a nice job of dressing like me: cargo pants, golf shirt, thick black-rimmed glasses).