In an extended family, anybody can bug out of his own house for months, and still be among relatives. Nobody has to go in a hopeless quest for friendly strangers, which is what most Americans have to do.
— Kurt Vonnegut, If This Isn’t Nice, What Is?
I lived in my suburban townhouse for nine years before I set foot inside a neighbor’s house. I waved to them when I was checking the mail or pulling weeds in my tiny garden. I knew their names and enough for a few minutes of small talk, but after that it felt safer to hurry back home, rather than risk lingering too long, running out of things to say, or getting stuck in a conversation.
This all changed when I became a parent and began following my toddler around the neighborhood. Toddlers are slow-moving and shamelessly nosy, staring at people until they get a smile and a wave. Nobody seems to mind.
Through my toddler, I met other parents, dog walkers, and a lot of fourth graders, who will tell you everything. I lingered even when I had run out of things to say. When my daughter began taking the bus to school, I chatted with other Kindergarten parents every morning. Eventually, I invited them over for dinner. The kids emptied all the toy containers in the living room while we shared tips on packing lunches and even things we did before we were parents. They invited us over, and we spilled toys all over their living rooms.
Now when I walk by myself, I try not to hurry past someone. It still feels strange to stop, but it’s always worth it. I ask questions to show I’m interested but hopefully not too nosy. Nobody seems to mind.
Cathy Wu
I write personal essays to help me process difficult emotions that surround mundane events. When not sitting down to write, I can usually be found in motion – walking, running, swimming, or playing with my kids.
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