The sun is setting. A light breeze picks up, and the temperature begins to fall. The day is nearing an end but a closed door can’t block the laughter, excited chatter and tiny shrieks. I haven’t seen my children in hours. But it’s dinner time, so I walk outside to call them home. Following the sound of muffled giggles, I find them perched above me in nearby tree with a neighbor’s child. This is life as a neighborhood kid.
I grew up about a mile away from our home in the same neighborhood. But unlike my children, I didn’t attend the public school in walking distance. Instead, I commuted to a private school. Only one friend lived nearby. But even her home was a hike. We’d call each other from phones mounted in kitchen walls. If the other person picked up, we’d get permission from our mothers and make plans to meet at a stop sign halfway between our houses. We’d then walk together to one of our homes to play.
These days, there are no landlines. Just like those rotary phones, advance planning seems to be a thing of the past. A door bell ring is now the official request. It’s always answered by a quick “bye” and my girls racing out the door to run, throw balls, ride bikes or play with the neighborhood kids. I know not to expect them to return until long after the sun sets and their bellies start grumbling.
Periodically, quick footsteps alert me to their return. But just like their stride, it’s a fast visit to grab a ball, a helmet or on one particular day- a bag full of toys, paper and markers. When they returned with our neighbor’s daughter after leaving with their arms full of items, I knew something must be going on.
“Mommy, come to our yard sale.”
“Your what…?”
“Come, see!”
I went outside to find the sidewalk covered in toys, mismatched doll clothing, and costumes with prices ranging from $0 to an $80 clown wig. They tried but couldn’t convince me to part with $80 for the wig. But I did repurchase a beloved Elsa microphone. Yes, I was re-purchasing toys that I had already bought them. But I knew my five-year-old would end the night in tears once she realized her nightly performance “couldn’t” continue without the microphone to play “Let It Go” as she belted the lyrics. I was also impressed with the confidence and initiative shown by two five-year-olds and a six-year-old to organize and conduct their first sale. What they were trying to earn money for, I still cannot tell you.
What this sale and the discovery of the same three little girls high up in a tree weeks later showed me was the value of being a neighborhood kid. Having friends a stones throw away allows for non-stop fun. They make friends. Those friends in turn challenge, encourage and inspire them to overcome shyness, fear and other obstacles that often stand in the way of trying new things. My children leave the house and become little adventurers ready to explore. I wish every child had the opportunity to be a neighborhood kid.
