Welcome to the Neighborhood

Well – HELLO.

It’s been a while. I apologize – kind of.

I took a break. Well, I didn’t mean to take a break. I had a bunch of writer’s block.

But, baby, I’m back! So yay.

ANYWAY. A couple of weekends ago I moved out of my parent’s house (round 2) into a cozy little cottage-apartment in North Park. AND I love it.

Ever since I moved out of San Francisco, I’ve desperately missed the city. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love my life now and I’ve learned to re-love San Diego… but I missed the excitement of the city. Maybe because of my not-so-great driving skills, I’d rather be able to walk than drive? I don’t know.

Anyway, I digress. I’ve moved!

And it’s perfect! If you’re looking for home pictures look up #thecottageonhamilton and you’ll see it all. (Well, not right now. I don’t think I’ve posted much on it yet.)


I more want to touch on HOW FITTING this move is in my life right now. At my church, our pastors are going through a series entitled Meet the Neighbors. It’s all about the second great commandment – loving your neighbors.

It was really humbling when our lead pastor asked us to write down our neighbors – BY NAME. Not by description.

I can tell you descriptions of the neighbors I’ve had in the past- the Asian Grandma, the Avocado Tree Guy, the Weird Guy in the Laundry Room…. but once you ask me names I go silent.

I remember being in elementary school (go Stallions!) and knowing the name of EVERY person on our block. Everyday after school, we’d meet up in the middle of the street trying to decide who’s house we’d hang out at. Our parents were friends, we were friends. Everyone looked out for each other.

My mom often tells visitors a story of how one day I decided I was going to run away. I packed up my Scooby-Doo suitcase and walked around the block to all the neighbors asking if I could stay with them. My mom got around 10 calls that day from parents saying, “Your daughter is on my doorstep asking if she can move in for a bit…” and my mom saying “I know, just send her home.”

Note: I was probably around 9 years old.

While this isn’t a story about how I was an annoying neighborhood child – it’s more of a story of how cool it is that so many parents had my mom’s landline and called her by her first name. AND how I had 10 houses to run away to.

If I wanted to run away today, I don’t think there’s one house I could walk to… and I definitely know that they don’t have my mom’s phone number, let alone know my first name.

I think this is the main reason why I’m so excited about moving. It’s a fresh start to get to know my neighbors, their names, and have a place to run away to when I get out of the house.

And I’ve seen so much progress in the week and a half that I’ve been there so far. I’ve already know more names of my neighbors now than I have since I was in college… and I only knew their names because we lived in the dorms. And who knows? Maybe one day, if their child runs away to my house, I’ll be able to call the kid’s mama and say, “K is at my house – I’ll send her home soon.”

 

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