I thought I'd be used to it by now.
We've been in our new house almost a full year. Everyone told me a new town takes getting used to. They assured me it takes a while to make friends. They agreed that suburban life is very different from urban life, but that I'd learn to like it.
It hasn't happened yet.
I want to be happy here. I recognize that it's pretty and quiet and that we have tons of room. I acknowledge the schools are better, that we're closer to Stu's job, that there are more opportunities for Ryan here.
There are exactly two things I like about our new home: we have a garden, and I can get to the beach in 10 minutes.
I feel isolated. My house is literally four times closer to a cow than to the nearest store. I hate driving everywhere. I have to drive 40 minutes each way to get to practice, an hour each way three times a week to take Ryan to therapy, and 15 minutes each way to the supermarket. I miss walking three blocks to the bank. Just taking a walk to nowhere feels weird; lots of streets don't even have sidewalks.
I've tried reaching out to my neighbors, and I've found one lady who's pleasant enough to talk to while she's walking her dogs, but no one I'd like to be friends with, and no kids who are willing to play with Ryan. The girls on my team are perfectly nice, but I don't feel like I've made any close friends yet.
I miss running into neighbors on the elevator. I miss the gaggle of kids that would teach Ryan games in our back yard. I miss New Yorkers - people who don't drown you in fake smiles, who don't wave their gun permits around, who have been known to leave the town in which they were born. I miss other members of the Tribe.
You know you're a New Yorker when you're not in New York.