Sunday, April 13, 2014


I've written here, frequently, about my experiences in Columbia - about the differences between my childhood in the city and my adulthood in the suburbs. I've mourned the lack of nightlife and culture, and I have celebrated the benefits of living in a safe environment with good schools, close family, and a growing community. I explored these topics from the perspective of apartment living, which, all in all, was not that far removed from how I grew up. We didn't know the people who lived across the hall, we had little responsibility in the upkeep of the building, and we lived on the third floor without a garden and with no expectation of limited privacy. So, though we had been living in Columbia, there were many similarities to the indifference and anonymity of an apartment in the city. 

I had no idea how much things would change. 

Buying a house in my parents' village of Oakland Mills was a dream come true for me. I couldn't wait - living within walking distance to the grocery and the Second Chance, to my mom's house and my sister's school? Perfect, and just what I had wanted. I thought of walking in my own neighborhood, with sidewalks and crosswalks and flower-edged tree lines, as a slice of the city in the quiet of the suburbs. And I have a deep attachment to Oakland Mills - my mom has thrown herself into the community, both through participation and through her writing, and that passion has been passed on to me because I have seen her fight for what is good, what is changing, what could happen. And through her I have met many other Oakland Mills residents who are equally invested in life here, who are now my neighbors, and who I hope will come to be my friends. When we found this house, this oddly shaped Pacesetter in my desired village, I thought yes, yes! This is my home.

And it is my home, much beloved, but it definitely comes with a steep learning curve. 

For one thing, people are really friendly. 

This is not a bad thing, not at all! But it is a surprise. It seemed like we had lived here for five mintutes but we had been welcomed by so many of our neighbors, whether it was at the Second Chance or in our front yard. The family across the street came over and offered their help - and they had made us a cake! A cake! My husband laughed at me because I eyed it with a good dose of suspicion (this was, after all, a kind of friendliness I had never experienced), but the cake was delicious, and a week later that same family helped us unload our new deck furniture - they're not only friendly neighbors, but genuine. 

Another thing - people are really curious. 

Those same neighbors joked that it was our turn, now, to be the new family on the block. I didn't quite get what that meant, but I do now! Earlier this week I was sitting on my deck - and it was morning, so I was still in my jimjams - when I heard someone greet me from behind the bushes. Now if this had happened in the city I probably would've gotten my butt out of there, but the fellow was quite nice and made chit chat with me as his dog sniffed around and my heart raced in my chest (I was also without my glasses, and I still have no idea what this gentleman looks like). I know he was being nice, giving me a quick welcome, but it further proved to me that friendliness and curiosity go hand in hand. And while there is a level of privacy afforded to us - trees, bushes, a fence in the front yard - there is still some guy out there who saw me in my pink kitty nightgown. Oh boy. 

And it's not just people who are curious - it's the wildlife. I am pretty sure that there's a groundhog living in my courtyard. Now, I definitely prefer groundhogs to rats, but I started googling and oh my gosh, they have claws! And we've got a very frisky cardinal doing his mating dance and chirping at passing females with an impertinent joie de vivre (he announced his presence by pooping on my head within the first week). Bunnies are everywhere. There's a cat which likes to cry at my front door at dawn. It's one part hysterical and one part mystifying. Apartment living did not come with quite this level of local life. 

Now, I'm still a city girl in many ways. While I joke about things like safety and indifference, I know that I'm not painting the whole picture and not being entirely fair. When I told my Grandmere about the fellow in the bushes, she said, I can see Grandpere doing that. My mom said the same thing - that he used to check out his neighbor's houses through their windows. And it wasn't totally unsafe where we lived, of course. But I do feel a difference between Bolton Hill and Oakland Mills - it's a combination of factors, the groundhog, the homemade cake, the omnipresent avians looking for a hot date, the kids playing in the streets, the nosiness I'm taking up like a treasured community pastime as I peer out of my kitchen window. 

There are many, many other things I am learning. Having a house involves commitment - maintenance, vigilance, gardening, cleaning. It's both satisfying and terrifying, because even as I learn how to put screens in the windows and clean out the gutters I'm thinking, what if the furnace breaks? What if a tree falls through my roof? What if that darn groundhog messes with our foundation? All of these things enrich my life as a housewife - I certainly have a lot more to do, and a lot more pride to take in my living space. And these were expected changes, for the most part. 

But it's the funny little surprises, the friendliness, the curiosity, which make home ownership into something wholly different than apartment living. My world is different, now. My world has wildlife and neighbors who have seen me in my nightgown. 

I will probably keep writing about Columbia - but to me, it's a whole new place. All of my previous judgements are, if not invalid, very much altered, in a very pleasant way. I have my afternoon walks to the corner store, just as I did in Bolton Hill, and I have neighbors who are curious and helpful, just like Grandpere. And I think I am coming to realize that there are fewer differences between city life and suburban life than I had thought, and far more differences between apartment life and house life. Sometimes it's the simplest things which change our worldview. A cake, a cat, a bit of harmless nosiness. 

I have looked at this house as a fresh start. Sometimes changing location can change who we are, and I think I've needed that. I'm getting another opportunity to consider Columbia, and a better chance to understand the community. I might have to work on catching critters; I will have to work on being a member of an awesome village. Tomorrow I will be making truffles for our cake bearing neighbors. Today I'm sitting on my deck - with real clothes on! - and wondering if the groundhog will pop his head out of his burrow. 

I'm an Oakland Mills citizen, a handy housewife, and what I lack in privacy I've gained in genuine friendliness. 

I think, even though I miss Bolton Hill and Baltimore, that I'm okay with that. 

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