I grew up in rural northeastern Indiana. My house was right outside of town, so close that when my twin sister and I missed the bus, we ran to school and still made it by the first bell. Nowadays, there’s a sidewalk that runs all the way out to my parents’ house from the town’s center. My kids, when visiting Yaya and Papa, have enjoyed many a stroller ride to the tiny ice cream place (open for four months a year and cash-only), the library, and the town park. My siblings and I, however, watched from afar as the “in-town” kids got together for pickup basketball, kickball, or bike riding. And boy, we were envious of the easy friendships that seemed to spawn from living in close proximity to kids your age. What could be better than a playmate living a door away, off school when you are, generally up for anything to pass the time that seems to stretch before you as a kid, pre-real responsibilities. Now, living in a neighborhood, our kids are cul-de-sac kids through and through, and it turns out, friendships with neighbors are even more powerful than I had ever presumed.
My husband and I moved into our current neighborhood when our son was 10 months old. It was October, it was Covid years, we took the winter months to get used to our new house, unpack, celebrate navigating our son’s first year of life, and generally, indoor things.
Then, the spring arrived.
Like animals venturing out after hibernation, and as heavily dressed as little creatures with their winter coats grown out, children began emerging from the houses around us. Our neighbors! At that time, there were just a few kids, and they kind of puttered around with each other, mostly on tricycles or jabbering to each other from side-by-side strollers. Now, our cul–de-sac could host a basketball game, and, if people’s grandkids are around, a volleyball game. It is vibrant. There is laughter and yelling, there is crying and skinned knees, there are make-believe games and chalk creations that cover the concrete in all shapes of creativity. There are all the most wonderful aspects of childhood, and let me tell you, it is just as amazing as what I had envisioned when I was a child. And seeing my children experience this makes my heart so full.
The most wonderful thing has sprung from our kids being part of the cul-de-sac club, and it is something I had never given much thought to before I found myself an active participant. The cul-de-sac and the playing kids have created such a sense of community in our neighborhood, not just for the kids and their parents, but for the other inhabitants on our street. When our older neighbors hear the kids, they come out. They used to come and say hi and say how nice it was to have their quiet evenings interrupted by the sounds of children. Now, they come out and are swarmed by the kids. They come out and bring chairs. They come out and come into our kids’ lives as additional grandparents. And for those of us making our way through parenting young children, managing the complexities of careers and life, our older neighbors offer encouragement and support, offer their services if we need to take a quick break from watching our kids, offer their opinions (not always taken), and their affection (always appreciated).
This past November, we decided to host a cul-de-sac Thanksgiving. We did it, really, to make sure we enjoy the time we have with each other, as one of our favorite neighbors has been experiencing issues with his heart and just does not always feel very well these days. The meal was good, pitch-in style. But the company. The company was exceptional. On this day, we sat with people who knew each other on the day-to-day basis, people who had watched each other’s children grow up from the moment their car pulled back into their garage home from the hospital for the first time, returning from preschool, wearing a giant backpack for kindergarten, new jobs, vacations, but also, the other parts of life: the conversations had about the deaths of family members, the uncertainties of the time, illnesses, injuries, the hard parts-all while our kids played happily, oblivious to worry, in the cul-de-sac. This is what the neighborhood has most provided: not the easy play-dates as I had presumed, although it has supplied that, but the resolute sense of community, the support system provided by proximity.
My mom came down in October and partook in trick-or-treating with our kids. For Halloween, the cul-de-sac kids all walk together and it truly is a joyous occasion, especially as we witness costumes transition from an Elmo who can barely walk to a ninja who is sprinting and kicking and jumping, or to the mom who was massively pregnant with her December baby the previous year to that baby now demonstrating a gum-tooth smile from a wagon happily partaking in the anomaly of being up and outside after dark (much past her bedtime). Our neighborhood is small enough that the kids can walk ahead of us as we follow behind and shout out “say thank you” over and over. Towards the end of the night, my mom, who knows my family and me are moving in the next couple of years, turned to me and asked, “How are you going to leave this place where you are so connected to all of these people?”
The answer is that we will never truly leave. There will always be a part of us that remains on our cul-de-sac. Surely many of my kids’ memories will be of their antics with their neighbor friends, and the relationships forged with those around us will not be diminished by distance. Another answer, though, is that a new cul-de-sac awaits. Perhaps not literally, but figuratively, there will always be neighbors who seek to build community, kids who are looking to play, and parents searching for support as we navigate similar stages in life.
Still, the cul-de-sac community will always hold a special place in our lives. Even when our address changes, we will forever value the many hours spent outside with our neighbors. We will never forget how they transitioned from neighbors to friends to family. And as they say, family is forever.
