Last week I attended the funeral of a dear family friend. More than that, he was like a grandfather to me. I grew up on a very short street, 5 houses total, bordered by a large paper mill and a cemetery.
Our neighborhood was a tight-knit community. We had ice cream parties in the summers, saw each other on Christmas day, and attended each others' big life events. The neighbor who recently passed attended my college graduation and my wedding. He was beyond himself with joy when he met my first born son.
I don't often think about my children needing surrogate grandparents. Paddy and Gabo are blessed to have five doting grandparents (and for the first three years of his life Paddy had six). But I find that we are surrounded with surrogate grandparents just as I was when I was a child.
Earlier today Paddy, Gabo and I walked next door to one of our next door neighbor's homes on our not so short, but pretty quiet street. She is retired and lives there with her partner. She invited us in and gave us cookies and milk. She helped Paddy write his name on a piece of paper and hung it on her refrigerator.
After lunch our neighbor in the other next door house asked Paddy if he would like to plant some flowers. I sat in the nursery putting Gabo down for his afternoon nap and listened to them chatter as she first taught him, then allowed him, to plant her flower garden.
My husband and I often talk about moving from our home. Eventually we would like a little bit bigger home, a little more land, a slightly better school district. After being reminded the importance of community and watching Paddy with our neighbors today, I wonder--- is it worth losing so much for a little bit more?
