My home. My community.
I live in Albert Park.
It’s on the east side of the city. “Oh, the scummy side near Forest Lawn.”
No. It’s my community. It’s awesome over here. I have the best neighbours in the world. This very morning, they’ll be eating my saskatoon jam (it’s more a compote, but hey…) with their toast for breakfast. So will the neighbour one house over.
Why? Because they’re great people. Decent people. People I like to be around. People I want to share with.
How’d this happen? I think I got backed into it. I’ve fought like hell for two years to keep my head above water. But now I’m unquestionably going to make it and no one - NO ONE - is going to block me from getting ahead.
I don’t care if I’m ever rich. I want to be happy. The kids and I have written out my goals and posted it on the fridge. Get out of debt. Own a home. Get a dog - and personally I’ll only consider a rescue dog. The home is really about kids and the dog. I want to achieve a good life by the definition that I choose.
That’s it. Family. Debt free. Home. Dog. Getting my teeth & jaw fixed would be great too. I’m just trying to figure out the order. Part of what brings everything else together is community. I’ve formed more roots in this community than anywhere else I’ve ever lived. I don’t really know why, I just know that I’m happy here.
So I ask the question: Do I belong to the community or does the community belong to me?
And why doesn’t everyone feel this way about where they live?