Breaking & Entering: A Reunion with Our Friendliest Neighbors

Based on our excitement about their upcoming visit, you might think our neighbors moved away years ago. In reality, it has been barely six weeks.

We don't have anything special planned, just a typical get-together for us -- game night at our house after a birthday party -- because the normal is what we miss the most.

The night feels like any other when we have gotten together. The food is made and sippy cups poured. The kids play everywhere pulling out toys I had forgotten existed. The guys discuss the shortcomings of their favorite sports teams. The moms talk about the food, the kids and the guys.

It feels the same. Only it is not.

We know when they leave, our friends have to drive back to a hotel instead of walking through the yards. The house next door sits oddly empty. It's kind of in limbo on the market with a relocation company in charge, but our neighbors technically still have the deed and absolutely still have a key.

Maybe they should have kept that to themselves, because this bit of knowledge inspires a conversation on how fun it would be to see what changes had been made inside the old house.

"I dare you to go look. Double-dog dare," I hear myself saying. Me, the quiet one, who would never actually go.

My up-for-anything neighbors hesitate only slightly before accepting the challenge. They, along with another neighbor dad also in our little group, head out.

My husband, always looking for a good laugh, nonchalantly hangs back.

It takes a couple of minutes for the other neighbor mom and I to realize we are left with all the kids, my husband mysteriously missing.

It takes just a little while longer to realize he snuck next door pretending to be law enforcement, terrifying everyone else inside. He says he was curious about the house, too, but wanted to make the night a little more memorable. I think it worked.

Turns out, the house looks basically the same inside. The walls are painted a lighter shade of brown and the carpets are cleaned, but nothing distinctly different.

It's the same with us. I've added some pictures on the wall. The kids have grown taller and louder, if possible.

There comes a point at the end of the evening when all seven kids, ages 18 months to 8 years, have descended on the living room running circles, flailing arms and talking, it seems, in their own special dialect. It is something akin to crazy town.

The grown-ups stop and look at each other, wondering the same thing, "Where did that come from?" someone asks.

And, we know it is just what these kids do. We take it all in, because now these moments will happen less often.

We say goodbye again, knowing we won't see each other checking the mailbox tomorrow.

As the door closes, a hint of excitement reappears. We are already waiting for the next visit.