The winter always makes me little bit more reflective about the state of my personal affairs. It doesn’t help that Mother Nature just dumped a few more inches of snow our way forcing us to stay indoors once again. Lately, I find myself thinking about the various friendships I have in my life right now versus what I had before when I was much younger.
Just prior to moving to the suburbs, I had a slight panic attack at the thought leaving all my close friends in the city behind. The thought of making new friends in the suburbs frightened me. Blame it on “Desperate Housewives,” “Stepford Wives” or books by John Cheever, I just thought I would rather avoid the drama and gossip of the town I live in than become friends with my new neighbors.
Fast forward many years, I still am close to my friends in the city and to some childhood friends. But I also have met several women through volunteer work and through my children whom I have now become close to. Many of them of are like me, NJ transplants, yet there are others who are local. And no, we do not have that careless, bonding time I had with my pre-suburbia friends. What I have with these friends are short sliver of time where we share an interest or two and often bond over the pleasures and frustrations of motherhood and life in general.
The thing I am most grateful for is that I know the friends I have out here also provide a safe support system for my children. I know that they have my back if an emergency comes up and I need help, which is key since I don’t have lots of family nearby. As my girls grow older and we become entrenched in our lives here in suburbia, I am now realizing what it feels to be part of a community again.