Never Say Never
One of the things that has contributed to how much I love (or don’t love) where I live is my connection to the people around me. If I look back on all three of our homes, I can see a through-line of home satisfaction that directly correlates to the depth of the relationships with those around me. Our first house was in a typical 1950’s-built neighborhood. No formal grouping or name but just residential streets lined with older homes not too far from commercial areas. There was a small group at the end of the block that were neighborly and friendly, there if you needed a hand, but not overly social or involved in each other’s lives. It was a great place to live until it wasn’t and the politics in the schools turned neighbor against neighbor. I deeply loved that house and the home we created there. I massively grieved when we left.
Our second house was in a new construction development. The layout of the neighborhood gave our particular property a weird kind of isolation with only one neighbor beside and a church in front. The entire rest of the community was on one looped street about a football field’s distance away. When we first moved in, only one phase had been completed so it was fairly small. Also, almost every single house had a first owner so it was a kind of joint new beginning for everyone there. We were close neighbors whose kids ran around together. We dined in each other’s homes and on decks. There were group Easter egg hunts and Trick or Treat nights. We borrowed tools and cleared snow together. Everyone worked hard to create the kind of place that we wanted to live in; there was a sense of a common cause. Over time, there came the inevitable turnover, the second phase was built, and kids grew up. The parties started dwindling and we didn’t know everyone anymore. People were not quite as bought into the close knit idea as they were before. Losing those connections also loosened my connection to the house itself. It no longer seemed like we would always stay there and it didn’t feel like a sacrilege to start considering other places to live.
This brings the story to our current house and why I am thinking about this topic. For years, I swore I would never pay a mortgage on a house that shared a wall with another. I thought the definition of being successful and an adult was to have your own single-family dwelling surrounded by your own expanse of grass. Huh. Never say never. Our house now is a townhouse. We share a wall with another house and another family. We are also in close proximity to several other houses. I have learned that being so physically close to each other intertwines our lives in ways I never considered. I know the patterns of my neighbors' lives. I know when something is off. I see the dogs that escape the yard and bring them back. I see that someone hasn’t been outside in a while and check that they are ok. I meet their families when they visit, hold the new grandbabies, celebrate the new roof, and just shoot the breeze for an hour chatting over the fences. I know that the sound of voices on the other side of a wall means they are home safe.
Now, I’m sure not every one of my neighbors feels this way. There are certainly plenty of them I don’t know and those who choose to live more secluded. I’m not saying proximity precludes privacy. But what I do know is that I feel like we are all co-existing in our humanness in a way that is not possible when your nearest neighbor is miles away.
I am so glad past Rachel was wrong, that she would someday pay a mortgage on a house with a shared wall. Look at all she would have missed out on.
