“I’ve got a pit in my stomach.”
I nodded because I did too, but hadn’t said it aloud.
“It feels so isolated and quiet! Where is everybody?”
I didn’t answer. I’d been thinking the same things, but we made the move and now the best must be made of it.
We sat ensconced in beach chairs, right there in the middle of our driveway. The girls skittered about in the empty cul de sac.
“How was your trip back to the old place?” I asked casually, but my knotted brow betrayed me.
He sighed. An impressive sigh, for one not given to melodrama. “Lots of people out. Bars and restaurants packed.” He paused, then, “I didn’t know how much I fed off the energy of others.”
“Welcome to my world.”
Other peoples “auras” always impacted me. Energies, moods, all that. I absorbed them whole and reflected them back. Since we’d moved to the suburbs, the calmness of it all unnerved me. There wasn’t any energy to conduct. No one in the cul de sac we’d moved here for, no one in the driveways chatting it up, no hide and seekers, no bikes.
“We’re in the suburbs, dammit! This is why we’re here! It’s smelling like false advertising.” I looked across to the closed garages and perfect landscaping. “This sucks.”
Then a memory: Toots’s preschool teacher told me that when they’d moved to a new community, she and her husband promised each other they wouldn’t complain. Not a word. Nothing negative or assumptive would drip from their mouths. It’s contagious.
Another recall: All my moves, each and every one, started out with me unsure, secure in the knowledge that I wouldn’t fit into the new neighborhood. And each and every one turned out to be another step toward something. Something I needed to learn. In short, it all works out.
Just you wait. Just hold on.
It was always like that.
Each and every time.
So, when a blonde forty-something and her daughter walked purposefully toward us about a minute later, I knew this move was unfolding like all the others.
We chatted for about 20 minutes and she seemed maybe fun. Also possibly normal. Or not, which is even better. She knew who Jon Hamm was. I smiled at my Mom God up there in heaven.
She knows better than anyone about the moves, the sullen daughter, the quantum shift to “maybe this ain’t so bad after all.”
Still, I wavered. Then today, another quiet cul de sac. Tears from my oldest.
No friends, she says. No one to play with.
Her desperation hurts the sullen daughter inside.
Just you wait, I tell her. Just hold on.
I know, but she doesn’t.
Then: a girl her age three houses down smiles from outside the garage door.
And we’re off.
It’s always like that.
Each and every time.
Awwww…I’m glad you are getting settled in and meeting some possibly normal neighbors and their maybe normal kids. ;) I’ve always been about the suburbs, I think living in the “city” city might freak me out a tad – maybe if I didn’t have kids I could do it. But I do like me some yards and cul-de-sacs. hehe I would trade it all if my backyard was the ocean though. Happy Monday SDM!
You are so right. Transitions are the worst, but sounds like it’s going to be worth it in the long run. But just trying convincing the kids, oy!
Woo Hoo! Glad it’s working out…change is a bitch sometimes, isn’t it?
I think you’re right. It’s all for a good reason and will work out. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t difficult.
Hang in there, I sooo know how you feel. I move 1 1/2 hours away from all my friends to live with my husband in this smallish suburb town. I still hate it, but I’m here.
I wish we had kids, at least that would force me to go out more, but I do have Bunco!!! Change can be good, but it is hard.
I wish you all the best with your new home. I know you can do it!!
It is indeed the magic of youth and connection. Kids fear it as much as they create it.
And this weekend? YOU! I’ve left the weekend open so that LD and I could welcome you properly if you’re ready. I can guarantee children do not stay hidden when LD is around. He’s a little pied piper-ish and kids just adore him. They seek him out.
Anyhow, CALL ME.
Fitting into a new neighbourhood is pretty daunting , we’ll be doing that in a few months time. Maybe I’ll have to make a vow of non-complaint.
Transitions are hard and lonely, but familiarity does come and with it, comfort and solace. (Remember, it’s only a year, right? I think I read that you guys decided to give it a year? Hold on!)
Big hug!
that’s exactly how our move to the suburbs started- at least in my mind. Within 24 hours, my youngest was down the block in a tree house and the other kids were riding bikes with the ‘white bread’ kids they had feared.
Withing a month, we were cooking out and drinking beers with the neighbors and now it feels like home.
Its not the same energy or vibe for sure, but it is what it is, and its usually good :)
hang in there.
beautiful writing, Deb. Send that somewhere…
My family moved a lot, and I remember those first days in a new neighborhood. It DOES work out, and pretty soon you’re completely at home. I know it will work out.
You have no idea how much I needed to read this today. Srsly.
I feel your pain! Every. Single. Day! I am here in the (extremely hot) burbs also, and it breaks my heart to hear my daughter complain of no one to play with too. It’s too hot to play outside, and too boring inside… Hang in there :)
Sounds like it is all going to come together just fine!
;)
Calm is a good energy to feed off of.