I Love My Neighborhood

My neighbor just came over to borrow 1/4 cup of vegetable oil.

I love living in a neighborhood where people actually do this sort of thing! I can think of about 14 neighbors off the top of my head who we know, whose kids we know, and who we'd recognize and talk to if we saw them at the store. That's not bad, in this era, considering that our neighborhood has about 115 houses. We've lived here 5 years. Several of the families we've known through the years have moved out. We have new neighbors on two sides to meet, yet, who are new to the area. We're getting there. I'm sure that we'll know more people by the end of the summer.

We know plenty of our other neighbors by sight, but we don't stop and chat with them when they're outside. We have neighbors from many ethnic backgrounds (something that's hard to find in the suburban Midwest). I can think of two Asian families and two, maybe three, Middle Eastern families. I know of at least one African American family, too, and I've stopped to chat with him and tell him that I love the daring fuchsia color he painted his shutters.

We've had our problems in this neighborhood, and we're completely outgrowing the house, but I love it here. And I love being the kind of neighbor that people are comfortable asking for a 1/4 cup of this or a 1/2 cup of that. It feels like home.