Y'All Come Back Now

You never really know what you are getting when you move into a neighborhood. I remember when my husband and I bought our first house in Chesapeake, Virginia fifteen years ago. Before deciding to sign all the necessary paperwork, we knocked on doors and talked to people who lived next to or across from our potential dwelling. I wanted to see what the neighbors were like and if they would help make our vision of home ownership come true.

This activity was a bit weird because, well, really, what was I going to find out? But I was six months pregnant with my first child, and I wanted to make sure I wouldn't be bringing my baby home to a neighborhood of serial killers. (I blame the hormones.)

Those who did answer their doors were nice enough but revealed little about their neighborly qualities. Nothing prepared us for the little boy next door who would walk into our home without warning or the wife who seemed like she was in a cult and hardly spoke when her husband was around.

For being in the south, typically an area known for extreme friendliness, our first house experience did not uncover the lasting kinships you would expect. Don't get me wrong, we still keep in touch with friends we made through church and work, but none of our neighbors.

When we moved back to Pittsburgh, I found people more friendly than when I left. (I don't know if it was because I was so happy to be back home after six years that everyone seemed like my best friend.)

On the street where we found our current home, I did not interview our potential neighbors. We needed our own place fast. My family of four, and dog, were living with my parents and my personal three month deadline for this situation was running out. But nothing could prepare us for the amazing people we would be surrounding ourselves with.

It all started with the 90-year-old watch-lady across the street who loved to see and hear my little ones playing in the yard. She would call us if there was a car parked on the street she did not recognize - making sure there was no riffraff out and about. Sweet Mabel has since passed away, but the family who bought her house has been a wonderful addition to our neck of the woods.

We have handy neighbors who help us repair things and caring neighbors who are always looking out for my children. Recently, our neighbor two doors down brought us his famous multi-layer Jello dessert to cheer us up after our dog and car died in a span of four weeks. I could not bring myself to return his dish empty because I was so touched by his kindness.  (Unfortunately, it took me a month to whip something up so I could finally get his Pyrex back.)

Now that the weather is getting warmer, we will start to mingle outside again. People will wave while sitting on their porches, conversations will be had while doing yard work and hopefully I'll share some wine with the gals on a summer night.

I'm kind of sorry I didn't knock on any doors twelve years ago. It delayed the process of getting to know the people who would provide the southern hospitality we had missed when we actually lived down south.