It’s been over ten years since we moved into our home. We were the first people on the street after building in a brand new estate. In the following few weeks we were joined by three other couples, all around the same age as us at the same stage in their life; moving into their first home, excited and full of dreams for the future.
It was summer and we would often spend our evenings sitting our front in the street chatting away. Time went on. One couple split up and moved out, another couple sold their house and moved to a different town. Today, only two of the four original couples remain, one being us. Our street has slowly turned into a revolving door of renters. The couple who fought loudly all the time, the young group of friends who threw parties and played loud music every weekend, the guy with the loud car that he would start up at 4am every morning, the family who we never saw. They’ve all come and gone. I find myself not even bothering to say hi anymore. I walk quickly to my front door from my car not wanting to make eye contact or engage in conversation. I can’t be bothered and don’t want to be bothered.Part of me doesn’t mind. I quite like just keeping to myself. Our home is our sanctuary and my retreat. But the other part of me is a little sad, that our son isn’t growing up in a neighbourhood where there are other kids his age that he can play with or neighbours that we know well enough to call upon in a time of need.
We’ve been talking a lot lately about moving. It’s an idea we’ve kept coming back to for many years now. And we probably will eventually. This was never meant to be our forever home. But it’s also a scary thing, to leave a home you’ve been in for ten years. And we know that we will struggle to find (and afford) exactly what we want. Blocks of land are so much smaller these days and I think, isn’t it funny, that we’re all so much closer yet more disconnected than ever before. Do you agree?
Do you live in a friendly neighbourhood?
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