to my neighbor
July 28, 2015 § 8 Comments
I was watching you today, in the time between our polite waves and small talk; the way you leaned into your phone like the weight of worries and tired limbs could find peace in the voice at the other end of your call. I know something of your days, there isn’t enough room between our homes for me to feign ignorance. Our community is so small that it is unavoidable we share one another’s imperfect experiences.
Just yesterday another mother confided one of your children had struggled a bit that morning at camp. I imaged your son pushing against the rules, restless and challenging. I know the size of the smile that comes when he settles into familiar boundaries in the same way I know the volume at which he fights discontent.
I don’t have any words of wisdom, but today I had this thought: I hope that you find more voices of comfort. Raising children is hard work, something that brings us both a sense of purpose and the risk of judgement. Too many times we assume knowledge of others’ lives and we miss an opportunity to exercise compassion in place of criticism.
I’ve seen you correct your children and hold them; I see your love and I want you to know that I do not measure your mistakes. I hope our home’s new owners will see the same and, perhaps, offer you greater friendship than we found between our front doors. That you may gain a new place to lean.
scribblechic 
What a beautiful sentiment and wish. And no judgement–I love that.
Judgements and gossip always leave a bitter taste, an unkindness that doesn’t wash away with a smile.
Love this. It’s true that you can never judge what’s really going on next door. People always thought my family was happy and perfect because we looked all Stepford-y and pretended we were but in reality we had a lot of problems hidden under the rug. I always have a lot of empathy for struggling mom’s because my mother always hid her stress and worry so well until our family broke apart. Now I’m a mom and I know how hard it is and I wonder how she pulled it off with so few people to lean on. I hope I have a neighbor like you with these sentiments as my daughter grows up. Another great post. Thanks for sharing.
I’ve learned perfection is an unflattering illusion, one that alienates and exhausts with intricate performances of other. Maybe if we make ourselves visible, without apology, we will all find a little more grace. Let’s be one another’s neighbor.
I think it’s best to be invisible when dealing with someone who says, “How are you,” but doesn’t really mean it. Some neighbors live in haunted houses, and it’s best not to be introduced to the ghosts of their sorrows (unless there are solutions). But I can see how the façade of perfection can lead to exhausting and intricate performances. “Oh what a sunny day to cry on, neighbor, the flowers are wilted, and the dog has died, Cousin Ralph is in jail but he’s innocent, but look in the mist I see a rainbow. Yes neighbor, let us look for the gold. I think the proceeds from the bank robbery are buried at the end of the rainbow. Ah, but the sun is shining now, and isn’t it a beautiful day. Come walk with me to the mountain top where Sally fell off the cliff fetching a pail of water from majestic rain.”
I think sincerity is a reasonable goal. We cannot possibly befriend everyone to the exhaustion of good manners under the pretense of politeness, but we needn’t pretend perfection to be kind.
Love the eloquence within your exaggerated example, there’s poetry in even the must mundane moments of every life.
“I hope our home’s new owners will see the same and, perhaps, offer you greater friendship than we found between our front doors. That you may gain a new place to lean.”
So are you saying that in terms of direct contact that it never went beyond “small talk” ?
More than small talk, less than friendship. I was fortunate to find a forever friendship around the corner; I wish the same for our neighbors.