Paradise Lost

Not so long ago I wrote a post singing the accolades of living in my idyllic town and feeling like part of a real community. Did I mention the weeping willows in that post? I can’t quite remember. There are lots of weeping willows in my town, and on my son’s first day of kindergarten they were all swaying to a gentle breeze next to the creek on our walk to school in balmy, 70 degree weather. I was so excited on that day to send my child to a small neighborhood school where he would meet kids that live only a few blocks away from us. I looked forward to extending my already wonderful social group by meeting my son’s classmates’ parents.  Did I talk about how I never feel lonely in that post? About how I run into friends and neighbors everywhere from the grocery store to the gym? Did I mention how friendly everyone is? How important it is to remember everyone’s name the first time you meet them because they will surely remember yours the next time you meet? Did I talk about how it’s nice to live somewhere with a slow-ish pace, not too much “keeping up with the Joneses” activity?  

But, change is inevitable. Isn’t there a saying that the only thing you can count on is change? Of course, change can be good. I often embrace change, and on many occasions I have instigated change. Change is what I know. Throughout my life I have moved homes or cities or states or left the country altogether every five or fewer years. I’ve never kept a job for more than a couple years (yikes!). I don’t really have “roots” anywhere, though I’ve thought on a few occasions that I might sink some. Parenthood has changed that for me though.  

Now that I am married with kids I want to give my kids a life I always thought would be so secure and wonderful. I want them to grow up in a town seeing the same kids grow up with them. I want them to feel connected to a community and surrounded by the love of friends and extended family.

Lately I have been feeling my fantasy crumbling away a little. Oh, the willow trees are still here, and they are growing delicate little green leaves now after a short but still chillier-than-I’d-like Maryland winter. Jasper still goes to his cute school on the hill. But I have recently been made to realize that even if I manage to not have MY life change, I can’t control the lives of others. Dear friends of ours here are moving away for a year or two, and I feel as though I have been hit by a truck. What do you mean you are moving away because of a job? As though I can ask such a question after being forced to move from our last beloved home for lack of a job (and know a job could force us to move again some day). I realize my little fantasy requires more than just me staying put, to keep it together I need everyone around me to stay put too, or our little community is vulnerable to dissolution. 

I have also noticed that the parents at my son’s adorable school are not so terribly friendly. They seem entirely different from everyone I met before who, after I met them once, would be sure to honk their horn and call my name as they drove by. No, the parents at my son’s school, inexplicably, don’t say hello even after numerous meetings. There is one woman with whom I have worked on a project who would not look my way and say hello when we were literally the only two people in a field walking toward each other, close enough to hold hands. I found myself awkwardly looking up and smiling, trying to catch her eye, and only after 5 or 6 attempts did I realize that she was not planning to look my way. That’s okay, I thought generously, she must have some shyness disorder that makes her break into hives when talking to people socially. My theory was disproved when I saw her hugging and laughing with other parents–many other parents–at pick-up time at school.  

Well, maybe it’s just her I think. But no, my son’s teacher won’t talk to me either (see earlier post). “She doesn’t like parents,” I am told. I feel alright with this comment until I see her chatting freely with a few other parents and even really hyucking it up with parents that had older children go through her classes. Again and again I introduce myself to other parents while our kids play outside after school or after I meet them at a few functions. Again and again they walk by without saying, “hello.” My favorite example (how can I pick a favorite example, you ask, when there are so many?) is when I walk my son to school and pass by 3 other moms from my school who have already dropped off their children. Two are acquaintances that definitely know my name and one is someone I know well. One of the acquaintances gives me a weak smile, one never even looks at me and the one that I know well gives me a nod or grunt, depending on her mood. 

Do I smell, I think? Do I just give off bad vibes? Finally it dawns on me. These people are not new to this town. Many of them are not new to this school because they have older kids. These people are not open. These people are cliquey! Ugh, why does my perfect little school in my perfect little town have to have cliquey parents? What’s the point of going to a neighborhood school if no one in the neighborhood will talk to you? 

I had lunch with a friend today and I vented endlessly about my anxieties and we also commiserated how it’s gotten harder to get together with all the people in our community due to growing children and busier and incompatible schedules. Venting felt good, chatting over lunch felt good and my spirits were lifted. I gathered my younger son into the car and we started the drive home and, what was that smell? Then I remembered that I didn’t put on deoderent this morning and the shirt I was wearing doesn’t breathe at all. I had to laugh. I thought that maybe it’s all because I really do smell after all! I

 hope this is just a bad phase and that like most cycles in nature and life a new one will swing up again and restore my contentment in this town. I truly hope so. Maybe that is all part of living in one place and sinking the roots–you go through the good and bad phases and wait them out. I will work on the things I can change. I can continue to be friendly and get involved in things. I can decide I don’t care about cliquey people. And I will definitely make sure I don’t forget my deoderent again, just in case!

Tags: change, community, paradise lost