Her middle-age son was barbecuing near his garage in his apartment complex.
“It brings back memories,” I heard the woman saying.
Her grandson was riding a tricycle back and forth along the garage’s threshold.
As I was leaving to run an errand, I drove by them slowly in my car to show regard for the young boy, and the woman waved to me.
I waved back.
Neighborliness is rare here in transient Las Vegas.