So when we moved from the comforts of our bungalow on sweet little Liberty Street, we grew wings and hoped that God would give us the strength to fly out of our middle white class comfort zone to a much more urban neighborhood. The one that shows up on the news because of the crime scene. Or the one that a lot of people don't know exists. We've been here for six months now, and we love it. I go to midtown which we still love, but when driving back to our neighborhood there is a sense of belonging. It feels like home.
So what's it like you ask? A bit like this, and a bit like that...
I was speaking with a neighbor about Hensley's teeth coming in and she responds with this, "You know what I give my boys when they was getting teeth? I give 'em those frozen waffles to chew on...and chicken legs."
We are leaving our house one Sunday morning, heading to church, to find our neighbor getting arrested on his front porch. We were totally bummed to see that. Much more than if we would have if we had seen it on the news. Why? Because this is our neighbor, our friend.
I asked the cashier at the neighborhood grocery store how she was doing, and she told me that her grandma passed away.
It's Weezie, or Little Ol Louise, knowing where we are at all hours of the day.
Oh, it's a whole mix of things and there is never a dull moment. We love our neighborhood, we do.
I think about it often, so I hope to share about it more.
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