We call our neighborhood “the village” because we really have something special here in 22202. Many of us met when we began having kids about 15 years ago. Some have left, and others have arrived on the scene more recently. We’ve been there for birthday parties for the young and older, trips to the lake, the ebb and flow of our kids’ friendships, countless school functions, block parties, and impromptu fire pits. We’ve carried each other’s kids home to mend cuts and bruises. We’ve organized meal trains for one another when life has dealt a crushing blow. I could write pages and pages, but I’ll save that for another time.
Tonight, the village came out for Maxine’s championship basketball game. They came to cheer for our girls on a Sunday night, even when they had no kids in the game. The preschool director came, too. She’s known most of these children since they were two years old, and she’d be damned (sorry, Beth, my words, not yours) if she was going to miss this opportunity to support these kids. We won, 17-16, but I don’t think I would’ve been too disappointed if we had lost, since the village was there.
My Corner of the Village 