How sweet that at 7 pm the doorbell rings and it's Lamont from across the street. He's 12 and very senstive and at this moment he's sobbing his little eyes out and it seems that I am the one he chose to come to. Of course, that's partly because my daughter and the other three boys he was playing with ganged up on him with their water guns and hurt his feelings. Hot Labor Day weekend, a party for the 3 year old across the street and their bouncy-house-tent is filled with laughing kids and there is more food than can be imagined and I have 5 kids screaming around me trying to defend themselves and blame each other. I hush them all and step outside myself for just a moment and I am laughing so hard to witness this! When the hell did I become the mom the kids come running to for help and advice? This just two weeks after social services came to investigate reports of abuse. I am a bit at a loss as to what to tell these kids, as in my head I am not much older then they! Finally I separate Sophia and Lamont from the others and sit on Lamont's front porch with his mom. My daughter tries to blame it all on the other kids and I tell her I don't care, she did it too, and I don't care what the other kids do, but in our house I teach love and she knows that very well. Wide-eyed and sweaty, but still she nods her head and reaches out her hand to Lamont and says I'm sorry. He's still crying a bit and I hug him and 20 minutes later he's back at the party all smiles but a bit shy.
When I moved into this neighborhood, people warned me how "bad" it was and were worried about my daughter and horrified that I would move her to such a place. Now they are envious because their kids have to be driven to each other's house to play and they live in neighborhoods with big walls and no contact with their neighbors. Yet we come home and Sophia runs to one of six or seven homes to play with her friends till dark. It's like the old days in Canada when we all roamed, the older kids taking care of the younger ones and the parents happy.
I love my 'hood. I have the best neighbors, filled with love and respect for each other. We're a hodge-podge of cultures and races and religions and we make it work. Our kids are not being subjected to the racism that runs rampant in the richer neighborhoods. Maybe I'm over romanticising it all, but as the giant flock of wild parrots flies over my home and the ice cream truck rings it's bell, I am just delighted that I chose this neighborhood.
