When we bought the Pig House, we had no idea how much of a blessing that decision would become. You can view the home’s structure and the landscaping and even the layout of the street before you close the deal, but there’s no way to really know what your neighborhood will actually feel like.
It took me most of the winter and even the early spring of last year to work through the grief of leaving our last home, but when I did, I emerged to find a set of neighbors that I now call friends.
Our children feel at home not only in our house but on the entire street.
There are kids everywhere. They pour out onto the street every afternoon as soon as school is done. In the summer, they hardly go inside at all. Age makes no difference. The older ones look out for the younger ones and the little ones look up to the older kids. They are creative and active and enjoy running around exploring the world together. When squabbles arise, they work it out themselves.
I’ve never known all of my neighbors before. It’s both a foreign feeling and one so easy that I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to find such a sense of community. One neighbor opens her garage to the best playroom you can imagine. Another neighbor holds weekly Friday/Saturday night garage movies. Others let Jake and Joe follow them around in their gardens, “helping” them water and dig up worms. Conversations are frequent and easy and there always seems to be some excuse for a party.
When we told them all that Maddie would need this surgery, every single one of them immediately offered help. They’ve provided meals, babysat the boys, come to visit in the hospital, given numerous gifts, prayed for us, and have otherwise been an unbelievable source of support.
Warren, Jake, and Joey are feeling the stress of this situation and miss both Colin and me when we are gone but they are able to find peace in the normalcy of life on our street. Our good neighbors have looked out for them and cared for them throughout these last few days and everyday. We are so grateful to know that they are happiest when they are home.
“It takes a village to raise a child,” the old adage says. Or four, in our case. And we couldn’t have found a better one to raise ours.