Over the weekend I heard from several folks back home (Hi Margie, Michelle, Gail!) and also received an e-mail from a neighbor in Virginia that I hadn’t been in contact with in the last year. Shirley and Smokey live at the end of the cul-de-sac, and we lived on the corner. We first met them when Smokey laid the hardwood floors in our house. We didn’t socialize together and our lives didn’t intersect through work or community activities, but we’d occasionally enjoy a “front-yard chat” when they would be passing by our home and we’d be out in the yard.
Smokey is a King George native and a Southern “good ole boy” in the best sense—hardworking, loyal, friendly, and polite without pretension. Right before we left for Belgium, he stopped his truck at our corner and told us he’d heard we were moving but that we’d be keeping our house. He let us know that if we needed anything done related to the house, he’d be “our man on the ground” in King George. I was so touched by that offer because it was given without hesitation or qualification and I knew he meant it. If we ever needed his help, we could pick up the phone and get it without a second-thought on either of our parts.
Shirley, a tech writer for the Department of Defense, told me that she’d received the URL to V-Grrrl from Mike on the Bottom, and she wanted to let me know how much she’d enjoyed catching up on our life. She told me a bit about what was going on in the neighborhood and wrote about passing my house every day:
“Thought you'd want to know that your old house seems to be fine, but it lacks the personality it had when you guys were there ... I always loved seeing the different seasons/holidays reflected by the decoration on your gate ... no Christmas lights for your house this year ... no abundance of flowers in the yard, by the fence or the mailbox ... no longer the Maverick in the driveway occasionally ... or your car with the V-GRRL license plate (mine being Pearlie, I notice other's license plates). Funny how you rarely see people except to wave at them now and then or chat when walking by, but still miss them when they're gone.”
How true. There are so many ways our quality of life improved with the move to Belgium , most notably the end of the E-Man’s nearly two-hour commute to work and the hours I spent stuck in the car taking the kids to school or activities. Here we’re close to everything and spend so much time together as a family, but we lack the strong sense of community we had at home.
When we moved we expected to miss our close friends and family, we didn’t realize how much we’d miss those we had less substantial ties with. People like Shirley and Smokey, the waitresses at our local restaurant, parents of our children’s friends, people we knew through Boy Scouts, the library staff, those we shared a handshake with at church, the checker at the grocery store who radiated a joy rarely seen in anyone, our doctors and their staffs., the women at the bakery and chocolate shop. All of these folks weren’t at the center of my life but were so important nonetheless. They made me realize how even small acts of kindness and familiarity build a powerful network that supports us in so many ways.
We’re friendly with our Belgian neighbors, but it takes time to build a relationship. The expat community is full of fine people as well, but for the most part, they’re people in transition. If you’re lucky, you’ll enjoy their acquaintance for a year or two and then the boxes are packed, the car shipped, the plane boarded, and they’re off to sow their seeds in new soil.
Last week when the kids were out of school, we spent a day at the Army garrison in Brussels , a small center offering various sorts of support to the American military and State Department personnel in the area. They have a library, a mini-mart featuring American products, a post office, a youth center, a gym, a pub, a consignment shop, travel agent, credit union, and craft center as well as various administrative offices.
As I ordered pizza for lunch, the young woman who was serving us said, “It’s been about a year since you arrived, hasn’t it?” I was astonished she remembered, and she said, “I remember it well. Your kids were so excited, they practically told me their whole life story when I saw them in the library.”
I was touched. It was a King George moment—right in the middle of Brussels . It made me feel right at home.
©2006 Veronica McCabe Deschambault. All rights reserved.
February 27, 2006