It's Good in the Hood

I moved into a dorm two weeks ago and already it feels as though I've been there for an eternity.  There are so many things I enjoy about this new way of living like the feeling it's a sleepover every night or walking into the rooms of people who you barely know and have conversations about nothing of consequence, but what I enjoy most is the community that has been created so quickly.  The theme of our floor is "Welcome to the Neighborhood" and the purpose of this theme is for us to realize the importance of living together in community.  Yes, Fourth Hill has been living like this, but I've noticed so many beautiful moments since I entered "The Neighborhood" and it has always put a keen smile on my face.  

I came home last night (home to my parent's house, that is) and I was downstairs, but as soon as my father touched the keys of the piano that has been with him for 29 years, I ran up the stairs to grab my viola as my sister grabbed the other.  We played together, the three of us, as we always have, but there was something on this night in particular that made it so much more meaningful to me.  It was this music that made me feel like I was really coming home, not the house, not my bedroom, not the dishes, but the music.  As we were playing, I looked out the window and watched the neighbors outside.  Some coming as others were going, greeting each other sometimes with a casual wave, other times with a friendly embrace.  One greeting stood out to me above all others and that was the return of my neighbor who is in college in California.

She left in August and her absence has been very present in our lives as she broke our group of five 66th St. girls into a group of four 66th St. girls.  A month and a half later, I broke it into a group of three 66th St. girls and it felt like I was no longer one of them.  In my prayers the night before I came home, I said a prayer for each of them, myself included, not to lose ourselves as we separate from each other.  It was no mistake that she drove up from Chico on the first weekend that I came home, it was all intended.  She came back while I was watching the neighbors through the window and I saw the neighbors run across the street to her and hugged her as soon as she stepped foot out of the car and it was so beautiful to me.  Fourteen years we've all known each other and it all seemed summed up in this single embrace.

Another moment was while I was riding the bus with some of my floor mates.  An elderly woman got on the bus and a few stops later, another elderly woman walked onto the bus.  They saw each other and instantly I saw each of their faces light up.  They knew each other by the bus and their conversation continued until we got off the bus.  I don't know their story and I'll probably never see them again, but it is so touching to see these connections.  There was also an elderly woman who used to enter a bakery (that I frequent on Saturdays) and she would collect a bag of day old bread to feed to the birds.  A small gesture on the part of the bakery, but for her, it is her life.  Now, she it is hard for her to come in, so she sends someone else to get the bread for her, but we all know it's for her to give to the birds.  Such a small thing, but so meaningful at the same time.

My feelings are embarrassingly yet perfectly captured in the lyrics of an ABBA song called Slipping Through My Fingers and here they are: 

"Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time"

 

That's exactly how I feel about each and every one of these moments.  I wish that I could always see my neighbor in the warm embrace of others, the women meeting on the bus and the lady coming to get her bread, but the picture is not frozen and never will be.  She will go back to college and we'll pick up where we left off.  The women on the bus will have to stop riding the bus eventually and the lady with the bread is already slowly leaving us.  It is hard to move on when we see these beautiful moments and it just seems that it would be so much easier to freeze time in these moments rather than force it all to go on.  That's not the point of the neighborhood, though.  The point of the neighborhood is to form a community and that means supporting each other in the times of joy and sorrow alike.  It's going to be a good year, even if it's hard at times, but that is life and life goes on in the neighborhood.