Coveting A House in the Village

Today, Anna and I met friends at the library in the Village. This is where knowledge of Upstate New York is helpful. There is the Town of Camillus, where we live. Then there is the Village of Camillus, the original, old part of town with a Main Street, on the creek, with hundred year old houses. The Village Library is nicer than ours - it's in a lovely old building with super high ceilings and windows taller than my house. Our friends live in the Village, and they walk about a block to get to the library.

After the library, we walked down to Nick's to get pizza for lunch. Nick is truly Italian, and he comes out and talks to you in his fabulous Italian accent and tells the kids "Don' worry 'bout makin' mess - we clean it. You have fun." Over lunch, I hear all the wonders of living in a village. They walk to the park. All the neighbors know one another, their backyards connect and have gates that go through so the kids can all play. They have neighborhood progressive dinners at Christmas, and a Winterfest in the Village.

I have always loved the first glimpse of the Village coming around the bend down the hill. The old church steeples and big ancient trees line the street. It's beautiful in the winter, covered in snow and looking tucked in and sleepy, gorgeous in fall when the sky is bright and clear and those trees are blazing in color, and it is beautiful now as those trees are covered in pastel-colored flowers, the daffodils are blooming, and the sun is shining.

We looked at a house that was technically in the village. It was absolutely adorable. But Jeff could only stand up one place in the upstairs, not at all in the cellar, and in most rooms if he spread out his arms he could touch both sides of the room at once. He said he just didn't think he could live there. We tried to buy a house in a village, but it never worked out that we could. The few that were available, besides the dollhouse I mentioned, were either in such despair that we would have had to spend years and thousands fixing them up (us, the non-handy ones), or were sold before we had a chance to get to them. There was one I fell in love with in another village that an offer had been accepted on. I tried really hard not to wish the people's financing would fall through.

The taxes are higher in the Village. The houses are smaller and older. The yards are smaller and everything is closer. Ok, I am certainly not interested in higher taxes, but everything else, I am fine with. Until recently, all of my married life I've lived in 1000 sq foot of house. My Cincy house was built in 1887. Until recently, all of my married life I have been able to walk or bike to a lot of places near me.

I really like the actual house I live in. I love the land it's on. The neighborhood is neat and attractive. But it's a suburb. I have never loved suburbs. I think the biggest reason I fell for our house was because while in my yard I can pretend I am NOT. I could live in the city (depending on the city and which neighborhood), I could live in the country, I could live in a village.

I met one of my neighbors down the road recently, who I'm pretty certain is from the Middle East, and she said, "This is a real nice neighborhood. Safe, people keep their house nice, but nobody talks to each other here." The single other neighbor who always comes out to talk is an older Italian lady, who pretty much said the exact thing when I met her. Everyone drives everywhere, and our lives are completely disconnected from one another.

Jeff and I bought a house we could grow into, so to speak. We're here for a long time. And I do think the stars aligned for us to buy this place. And I like it. A lot. There are many good things about where we live. I'll just have to work on the ones I don't like. Maybe I'll have to invite my Middle Eastern neighbor to sit and have a cup of coffee next time I see her out walking. Or accept Josephine's offer to sit and have a drink next time she stops us when we're walking Biscuit. We should invite the Fey's over next time we cook out. These things are difficult for introverts like Jeff and I, but the people in my neighborhood really are nice people. Somebody has to be the first to make the time, to step out of their bubble.

And I'll just have to whip the kids into great hill-climbing shape this summer so we can walk to our library, park, and cafe.