I feel very lucky to live where I live.
We don't live in the fanciest neighborhood. Or the newest neighborhood. Or the neighborhood with the best schools. And sometimes we get a little bit too much traffic cutting through as a shortcut to the highway. But there is one area that my neighborhood kicks the ass of all other neighborhoods... Community.
I love that my 84 year old next door neighborhood, Wyndell (also known as The Angel), knows exactly how old Little B is on any given day. This is the same neighbor that also chats with my dog every morning over the fence and throws her a "biscuit".
I love that every Tuesday I go to my neighbor, Michelle's, house to pick up my CSA vegetables and catch up on how work is going, if her baby girl is teething, and when we are going to plant her first garden in the backyard.
I love that people wave whenever they see me walking with my little one in the stroller and Wrigley trotting next to us... even if I haven't the foggiest idea what their name is.
I love that my neighbor, Ella, used to bring us apples from Maine every year... because according to her, you just have not lived unless you have eaten a Maine apple. How we miss her!
I love that another neighbor of mine always pulls my trash cans up from the curb every Thursday... just to be nice.
I love that we have old retired military officer that drives around neighborhood in his beat-up truck... just keeping an eye on things, making sure all the kids are out of trouble, and no one is driving too fast.
And I love that if I ever have a last minute meeting, or the babysitter cancels, or I just need a break from my precious baby, then there are many of friends in the neighborhood that I could call who would gladly take my little monster, play her hard with their little kids, and deliver her back to me tired and ready for bed. And of course, it goes both ways. If they call me, I have their back.
I love our interesting mix of elderly and young families. That balance of experience and youthful optimism.
And as I watch the young couple with their baby boy move into Ella's old house across the street, I am excited. Another friend/neighbor to bring into the mix. Which says "Welcome to the neighborhood" more? Banana bread or chocolate chip cookies?
Hopefully you already live in a neighborhood like this, where you know your neighbors and appreciate their similarities and quirks. But in case you don't, I challenge you. The power of cookies is tremendous... Maybe drop some off on a front porch this evening and just see what happens.
We don't live in the fanciest neighborhood. Or the newest neighborhood. Or the neighborhood with the best schools. And sometimes we get a little bit too much traffic cutting through as a shortcut to the highway. But there is one area that my neighborhood kicks the ass of all other neighborhoods... Community.
I love that my 84 year old next door neighborhood, Wyndell (also known as The Angel), knows exactly how old Little B is on any given day. This is the same neighbor that also chats with my dog every morning over the fence and throws her a "biscuit".
I love that every Tuesday I go to my neighbor, Michelle's, house to pick up my CSA vegetables and catch up on how work is going, if her baby girl is teething, and when we are going to plant her first garden in the backyard.
I love that people wave whenever they see me walking with my little one in the stroller and Wrigley trotting next to us... even if I haven't the foggiest idea what their name is.
I love that my neighbor, Ella, used to bring us apples from Maine every year... because according to her, you just have not lived unless you have eaten a Maine apple. How we miss her!
I love that another neighbor of mine always pulls my trash cans up from the curb every Thursday... just to be nice.
I love that we have old retired military officer that drives around neighborhood in his beat-up truck... just keeping an eye on things, making sure all the kids are out of trouble, and no one is driving too fast.
And I love that if I ever have a last minute meeting, or the babysitter cancels, or I just need a break from my precious baby, then there are many of friends in the neighborhood that I could call who would gladly take my little monster, play her hard with their little kids, and deliver her back to me tired and ready for bed. And of course, it goes both ways. If they call me, I have their back.
I love our interesting mix of elderly and young families. That balance of experience and youthful optimism.
And as I watch the young couple with their baby boy move into Ella's old house across the street, I am excited. Another friend/neighbor to bring into the mix. Which says "Welcome to the neighborhood" more? Banana bread or chocolate chip cookies?
Hopefully you already live in a neighborhood like this, where you know your neighbors and appreciate their similarities and quirks. But in case you don't, I challenge you. The power of cookies is tremendous... Maybe drop some off on a front porch this evening and just see what happens.
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