When did my neighborhood become just the place that I live?

When did my neighborhood become just the place that I live?

By Gina Hardiman

There’s a street behind my house that loops around like a long oblong circle. There isn’t much traffic on it because, except for the houses for the people who live there, it doesn’t really go anywhere. It’s a long-established childhood favorite place where in the winter the hill at the end of the loop is steep enough to be dubbed “suicide hill” by the local children and is covered with kids sledding every snowfall. During the spring and summer, life abounds as in the center of the loop there is a gully with a stream alive with tadpoles and other living things children love.

We use to walk back to that street often because in addition to it being a great place to ride bikes and scooters, there was always something going on. Other children were out and about shouting or laughing. There was always an old blanket sitting askew in the grass where kids hoarded treasures. Several swings were tied to tall trees that bordered the gully. Grass was allowed to grow long and wild and wildflowers both hand-picked and growing were left alone.

Last night, enjoying the beautiful weather, I absentmindedly wandered back there. It wasn’t until I got to the stream that I realized how long it had been since I had visited. The reason for this, of course, is that my children are no longer little and we no longer take long walks looking for nature and other wild things like other children to play with. Gone are the days of chasing fireflies and searching for life in the stream. Yet, despite this, everything looked and felt familiar, everything that is except me. I felt like a stranger and intruder there and suddenly felt a loss.

I realized my walks now mostly occur inside a metal structure where I plug into music or watch a video so I can tune out the sounds around me and walk the miles away on a treadmill. There bad weather doesn’t affect my exercise, but good weather doesn’t affect it either nor children laughing or nature singing. Last night as I stood and listened I remembered the beauty of the walks in the past. A sudden bark startled me and reminded me we never knew what we would find on our walks and that was the real beauty we found.

Without even realizing it, my neighborhood has simply become the place where I live and I felt a stranger among the wildflowers and dipping branches. The absence of the beauty and sounds of nature I suddenly realized was too great a loss.

This morning I put my gym membership on hold because I realized despite the benefits, I need to be outside to see and experience the beauty around me. Because it’s not just where I live, it’s my neighborhood and I miss it.