This morning a friend sent me a word to write about. "Fences." And he added, "Not the literal ones." I'll do my best with this one, because I oddly have a visceral reaction to this word.
When I hear the word fence, I think immediately of two things. Tom Sawyer having to whitewash one as a form of punishment, and the proverbial notion of having a white picket fence as the optimal goal for all suburban families to settle their families within. Both of these seem like notions of eras from long ago, in a world I have flirted with, but don't belong to anymore.
When my brother was a kid, he starred as Tom Sawyer in his school play. I can still see him on stage, pretending to paint that fence. He was perfectly cast, as he was always up to something and then being punished for it. So was I. I was just a little better at not getting caught.
As for the notion of this state of mind I grew up with about blindly accepting this "white picket fence" ideal of the perfect lifestyle, I have always had a tough time with it. While I was fortunate enough to have grown up in a family who was fortunate enough to experience this, I was never sure it fit for me.
And then I grew up, and began to raise a family of my own. My rebellious, city living ways were soon to be supplemented with a second kid…and a yard of my own. At the time, we made the tough decision to do what was best for our family - not us - and focus on school systems and swing sets. So off to the suburbs we went.
And while there was no picket fence in the home we bought, it was as close to the "ideal" as one could imagine. New construction on a lovely street, filled with all new homes and other young families. My kids would attend the "new" school in town, meaning the most recently built elementary school with the amazing principal. It is a beautiful home with a beautiful yard. It's just missing the fence.
That's no accident. I don't like fences. They have always struck me as restrictive and unwelcoming.
Zoom ahead eleven years. I decided last night, with my daughters, to say goodbye to our house. We made this decision together, as we have made most decisions, for the last year and a half. We decided that this "ideal" that has served our family for their lifetime, no longer fits us. It's like we lost a lot of weight, and we find ourselves needing a new smaller wardrobe.
Ultimately, I am the parent, and need to decide what is best for all of us. However, having them bought in to what we do is really critical to that decision's success. So the lovely condos down the street which offer the just the right amount of space for us and a heck of lot less headaches for me make sense for us right now. No changing schools, no changing friends, no changing anything significant like that for them. But for the three of us, it's saying goodbye to the remnants of an old life and a house of memories that often hurt. Though there is no physical fence in our yard, we have been fenced into our old lives for quite a while.
So a change is needed. For many personal reasons, it's time. This move offers much freedom in a number of ways, and offers us all a fresh start. And it also confirmed one very big thing to me, as we made this decision together late yesterday. A house is a just house. A home is the place where we spend our time together.
I have never had a fence on my property, as I don't like the restriction it suggests. To me it says, "This is my property - don't enter unless I invite you in." No matter how big or small my home, I want it to always feel like the door is open. Just come in and make yourself welcome.
Big changes are ahead for this trio. And it's all good. I am raising these kids in an environment like I live the rest of my life. See the opportunity, rather than fear the change. I dare say it's a strategy that's helping them to grow and thrive. I guess I won't really know for another ten years and I hear about their trips to a therapist, but I think I'm right.
So screw the ideal of the white picket fence for us. This new option is great for now…and then they head off to college, and I head back to the city. The last thing any of us need right now are boundaries, be it beautiful wooden ones that frame a yard, or mental ones that prevent us from making good choices for us.
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