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A Neighborhood Divided: Years of Friends, Months of Loss, Weeks of Grief
When we moved out of Baja and back to Cali, I wasn’t what you’d call… excited. Besides the whole experience feeling anti-climactic (we already lived in SoCal once), track houses aren’t really my jam. Apparently, the neighborhood cookie-cutter fairy put all of our floor plans on a blueprint and the creativity stopped after five. Five similar shapes, five coordinating paint schemes, and that was it. Match-y match-y ain’t my style. Plus, I didn’t see a whole lot of ministry taking place between getting the mail and pulling in trashcans. I don’t mean to sound like a whiner. I’m truly grateful for Model #3 to call home and know millions around…
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I Moved Into Our New House and Met 19 New Neighbors on Our Street! It Was Weird.
It started five months ago with the people who share our fence. They were nice and we were new, so the conversation revolved around our dogs, mail for the former owner, and if the HOA is strict about paint colors. They are. Handshakes and names quickly moved to swim invites and baked goods, with a walk for the ladies and a beer for the guys. Southern California fence culture says, “That side’s yours, this side’s mine. Keep your tree limbs trimmed.” But since I’m not originally from here, Carrie culture says, “Let’s knock the fence down and have a BBQ!” The first thing we noticed about our new neighborhood…
