I am spending a great deal of time looking out my front door now that I’m in the city. We live on a very quiet block in the middle of a noisy, bustling city. I love the sounds of the city and yet having a quiet block is a saving grace considering the amount of noise that resides daily in my house. I am finding that the noise in my head is equally overwhelming. Even late at night when the kids are sleeping the sounds in my head keep calling me, alerting me to all the things I ought to be doing, thinking, saying, acting upon. Peace is fleeting, silent. It moves to the back of every room in my head when the noise strikes up.
Outside my head I stare out my front door. I don’t know what I’m looking for, maybe I’m not looking for anything really. Maybe I’m just looking out. I joke that I am on track to becoming the Mrs Kravitz of my neighborhood.
In the country, looking out my window was an invitation to peace. Staring at the sky, the trees, the deer on the lawn…all these things invited calm. On this quiet street I thought the feeling invoked would be similar but somehow it’s not. I suspect every car that drives slowly. I listen for every sound and ponder it’s meaning. The train whistle in the distance which used to fall into line with the din caused by my children now stands out. How far away is it? How long before my boys decide to investigate that? Is it safe?
Is it safe?
There it is. Is it safe? This is all new and old and new again. City life is not where we’ve been the last 5 years. I don’t yet know how to parent, to live, in the city. It’s all new and old and new again. This is the adjustment phase. I want to do it well. I want to be settled, ready, city dweller extraordinaire. It’s hard to wait.
Looking out is good though. I look in an awful lot. It’s time to look out. It’s time to be out in the world again no matter how afraid I feel when my feet reach the threshold.