Well we've been at this house just a few nights and I've already seen the police twice. Apparently we have those neighbors. You know the ones. The kind that the other neighbors only talk about in hushed voices and subtle gestures. They point out each house and describe the occupants, but when they get to that house they move a step closer to you and warn you to steer clear.
It's been over twelve years since I've lived this close to people. When I left Manhattan I sought out a quiet little corner to hide myself. I loved New York, I truly did, but the events that happened there had shaken me and I wanted a quiet place to regain my footing. I was weary of looking over my shoulder, of being constantly aware of everyone and everything around me. I wanted to feel safe.
So for the past twelve years I've moved from place to place... Always searching to go unnoticed. A little house with a lot of property was all I ever wanted. And now, here I am sitting in a townhouse two doors down from those people and I am reminded about a sermon I heard once about how Jesus loves the cities because that is where the people are. I know, this isn't NYC, but there are people here, and if you want to make an impact then you need to be around people. So I've traded the comfort of seclusion for the possible discomfort of community and maybe that is why this place already feels like home.