I bought my first house almost three months ago, and while I had a “love at first sight” experience, I must admit that I was suffering from buyer’s remorse. My new house wasn’t any closer to my job than my apartment had been. The house was about thirty minutes from my closest friends, family, and church. And I allowed myself to keep checking the realty website when new listings appeared. I couldn’t help but notice that there were houses closer to where I lived before with bigger bathrooms, garages, and community pools. Where I live now, I have to separate my belongings into two rooms, my bedroom and my dressing room, because all of the gaudy furniture doesn’t fit into just one. This house had appeared to me the object of perfection. How had I not noticed these imperfections before?
But then it hit me. It hit me when instead of rushing into the house, I sat outside for a while with Ms. Mary, Mr. Bob, and Ms. Lorraine, my neighbors. In those moments, I recognized the peace that made this place so special before.
As we sat outside together, I noticed that they were not so concerned with filling the space with words. Many times, when our conversation lulled we sat silently, and it was never awkward like small talk pauses. Ms. Mary noticed that someone was cooking something good, and asked if we smelled it too. We all nodded. Ms. Lorraine chuckled as the little boy across the street hid from her glances. Mr. Bob remarked that even though those children across the street are a handful, their mother dresses them up every Sunday and marches them up to her minivan for church. Ms. Mary thanked God for the breeze.
I marvel at how much we miss when we move too fast.