In the course of conversation, I recognized the familiar signs of a stay-at-home mama going stir crazy. Her 3 year old boy is a doll, but has vast amounts of energy to burn. He is not a good sleeper, doesn't nap, and there is no room to run around their tiny apartment. There is no yard to play in outside or park nearby. They do not have a car, and only being here two months, are stymied by Syracuse's terrible bus system. (It really is one of the worst public transportation systems I've seen).
When we finally convinced them that we did have to go, she had us sign a guest book, and asked if she could have our phone number so she could ask us for a big Nepali dinner sometime. She carefully wrote down her name and number for me. She clearly was hungry for contact with adults, and eager for friendship.
That visit has stuck with me. I think about how hard I think it is to make friends in a new city. A city that is still part of my native country and culture, where I speak the language, know the ropes, and have the social capital to be successful at friendship. What must it be like to be in a new country, where the only people who extend kindness to you are those who are supposed to because it is their job? (I forgot to mention that this family was robbed of everything but the clothes on their back the first month they were here. How's that for a nice welcome?) Since this isn't technically my job, I find myself in a position where I might actually be able to be a real friend. Especially since I have walked a bit in those lonely new mom shoes.
2 comments:
This one brought tears to my eyes, Tiff. It's so easy to remember those feelings of complete loneliness. But you're right, we're in our home country. That woman doesn't realize how fortunate she was to have you step through her door.
The fact that you allow yourself to recognize how much she needs a friend is one of the many reasons you are a great friend. So proud of you, bestie:)
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