What a week! A new pool liner, new garage doors (one installed), sod for an overused area of our back yard, beds made every day (my mom is going to be so proud), a chat with the bank, a meeting on site next week with the builder to see if the property we want to make an offer on has any red flags, floors being washed at 10:00 p.m., weeding, and so much more that I’m forgetting! And now…we wait!
I’ve noticed that I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting lately. I’ve been thinking about our path to now, and am using it to ensure we’re headed in the right direction. Our path looks something like this: we moved back from Georgia in 2000, and after living with my parents for about 6 months, we bought a small raised ranch on an acre of land that backed up to a small lake. The turtles would come up in the early spring and lay their eggs at the edge of our property. We eventually gave them names. Big Momma was our favorite. Each year we would have to keep our eye out for lost baby turtles and redirect them back to the lake. There certainly was no shortage of wildlife! I once witnessed a hawk swoop down and grab a small bunny in the yard. I had a huge garden. We built backyard bonfires and our neighbors were friendly but kept to themselves. Heaven.
But, as the kids were getting older (Mackenzie was 13, Ian was 8), a couple of things lead to us moving into our current neighborhood. We certainly needed more living space. Raised ranches are tough for a young family. Most of the time we were all on the tiny main floor. The “downstairs” was never utilized and it felt like we were always under each other’s feet. We talked about expanding but I longed for a center hall colonial with 4 bedrooms. Also, living off the beaten path had me feeling left out, but more than that, I felt like my kids were missing out. I wanted them to be able to ride their bikes to their friends, I wanted the doorbell to ring and have a group of kids on bikes ask for my kid, I wanted to host and attend neighborhood parties. I wanted suburbia.
Since moving back from Georgia, I became close friends with a group of moms that were in Mackenzie’s Girl Scout troop (we called ourselves the Girl Scout Moms). They were just like me. Married, kids, strong family values. They all lived in an area where we were looking to buy and within a couple of months, at the height of the market, our house sold and we moved into our 2600 sq. ft. colonial. It was like the universe knew exactly what I was looking for and served it to me on a silver platter. Our home was dated, but perfect.
I can remember moving in like it was yesterday. While I shopped for food, our friends (and now neighbors) were unpacking boxes for us. Harry was getting help carrying bedroom furniture upstairs and our in ground pool was crystal clear and waiting for people to jump in. I was so happy.
We quickly became one of staple homes for the kids (and adults) to play at. We hosted weekend pool parties for everyone. Harry extended our deck to accommodate the crowds, we put a labor of love into our outside (and inside) space and we were happy to work hard so we could enjoy the company of our friends. This went on for a couple of years and I can honestly say, I loved these years. Loved them.
But then, things started to change, as things do. One of the Girl Scout moms announced she was getting a divorce. Things became a little awkward since we were friends with both parents. Relationships got strained and people felt left out. Then there was that time that I was told, “we’re only your friend because you have a pool” …laughter erupted and it was supposed to be a joke…but I never forgot those words. Be careful with words my friends, they stick. Were these really my friends? Sensitive, I know. And maybe a little nervous as I watched my world, slowly change. Over the next couple of years there were more divorces, the kids were getting older and were developing friends outside “the group”, there were more hurt feelings (your kid left out my kid, etc.).
The dynamics of our gatherings began to look a whole lot different. What started out as family get-togethers turned to girl’s night out. I started to remove myself from what was left of the group and started declining invitations to go out. I wasn’t comfortable with the new look. I was more worried about how MY life was changing than what was probably the toughest time for some of my friends. Was I really their friend? Eventually, many of us just stopped talking to each other. Things got very quiet around our home.
I’m not a believer in regret. I think everything happens for a reason and you need learn lessons from every situation. Hence, my reflection. I loved this time in my life. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I am who I am today because of those that have entered (and exited) my life. I wish you all the very best of happiness.
Harry and I started talking a couple of years ago about how we missed our house on the 1 acre of land backing up to the lake. We started talking about how we had several rooms in our home that were not even being used, how we’re lucky if we go in the pool once a year, how the commute from Clifton Park to Albany seems to get more congested every day, how it would be great to have more land and less house. We started talking about what our next adventure would be once we had both of our children out of school. We started talking about getting older, planning for retirement and me not wanting to worry about stairs in my 70’s and 80s. We started planning for the farm.
To be continued…
