Our house, in the middle of our street.

Have you ever heard the lyrics to "Our House" by Madness. I always recollect the chorus to this song when I think about our home. Mostly because the only part of the song that I know is "our house, in the middle of our street". And seeing that our  house is in the middle of our street, well, you get it.
I recently had a conversation with my good friend Alyson about friendship. We lead different lives, ie: I have kids, she does not. But for 15 years, we've stayed close despite our different paths. I told her about  how when you become a mom, you often go through this process of "mom dating". You have to make new friends. There's no way around it. You suddenly get this urge to form social connections with women that share in the joys and pains of parenting. You realize that your previous friendships, those friends who work full time, and go to happy hour, do fun stuff every weekend and get to sleep in on their days off, just aren't cutting it. Don't get me wrong, I love that I've stayed friends with Alyson and a handful of others in the past 4 years, but those new friends, the ones that are moms, the ones that rejoice and commiserate with me, those are some amazing relationships.
And thus we come back to the topic of my house. More importantly, my street. These past 2 years I have been abundantly blessed by my neighbors. I've made some amazing friendships with women that have really enhanced my time as a mother of young kids.
We've lived in this home for 7 and a half years. Not until 2 years ago did I really ever get to know the people that lived near me. We knew our neighbors on either side but that was it. Our homes are fairly close together and whether it was because I worked full time or because I just didn't' care, I never made an effort to stray far enough from my front door to see who resided on my street. Thankfully, and only b/c I have children, I started walking. We began to spend time in our own front yard which lead to spending time in others front yards.....and on porches.... and then in kitchens. That simple act of stepping away from my comfort zone has developed into amazing relationships that without, I'm not sure how I would do it. The old saying "it takes a village to raise a child" has some serious merit. Of course I believe that families in rural areas with neighbors separated by miles can do just as fine a job as any raising their kids. But for me, my village can't be ignored nor can it be under-valued. Weekly, I call on my friends, my neighbors, for support, and every time, they oblige, as I do for them. We're a community. We're family.
I know it won't always be like this. Some day my little family will outgrow this home and we'll move. We may even move far away. This city has been my home for nearly 30 years and leaving will be difficult. But what will be the hardest, will be severing the closeness I have to this street. It will temporarily break me, of that I have no doubt. I envision myself fighting against what I know must happen, of temporarily refusing to go. "You'll have to make me" I'll shout. My husband will laugh and assure me that there are more neighbors to meet and form relationships with on our next street. But he'll be wrong. Bonds like the ones I've created over the past few years are rare. I recognize that and I treasure it. These sisters, these children, these stories that I've become a part of are so special and unique.

My hope is that I enjoy and appreciate what I have for how ever long I have it. To understand that not everyone is as blessed as I to have a neighborhood of friends, hell, cheerleaders that applaud their parenting successes and support them in failures. This is rare, and wonderful, and dare I say it, pre-destined.