...for better is a neighbor that is near than a brother far off.....
I've been wondering about this. Sometimes extended family members get together frequently because they want to. Sometimes the get together occasionally because they feel obligated to. Sometimes they have other pursuits and obligations that are more pressing. Sometimes they must sever the relationship completely. Mind you, none of the above are either right or wrong.... just different.
As a child I didn't know my cousins that well. The ones that lived nearby were quite a bit older than me. The ones that were closer to my age lived all the way across the country (Virginia) and all the way across the world (New Zealand). I longed for what I felt would be a very desirable situation, lots and lots of family, living nearby, and getting together often. Getting together because they wanted to, not because they had to.
So when I was young I created a fictional family and happily placed myself in their midst. Our last name was Dalton (don't ask me why, I have absolutely no idea). As a Dalton I had several brothers and sisters (I have one wonderful brother and two amazing sisters, but I guess I felt I needed more) and lots and lots of cousins. All of these cousins lived nearby, close enough to walk to our house.
Our house was wonderful. It was large and rambling. Two story, a white frame victorian. There were rooms for everyone and plenty of extra beds for guests. The whole place was decorated in a wonderful country/shabby chic. Homemade quilts on every bed, lace curtains billowing at the windows, and a large upright piano in the parlor.
Then there was the kitchen. The kitchen was the most wonderful part of the home. Large and well equipped. Always smelling of something freshly baked. With a large wooden table in the center that would seat at least a dozen people. But the best part about the kitchen was the back door. It was one of those wonderful old fashioned doors that had window panes at the top and lovely frilly cafe curtains. The reason the door was so wonderful is because in it's window was where each loved ones face would appear. They would jauntily wave, utter a hearty hello, and come in. And they were always welcome.
Each visitor brought with them a special gift with just their presence. It was a place of warmth, love, and true friendship. There were no feelings of duty. No petty arguments about unmet and unreasonable expectations, no selfish ulterior motives. Just love. Lots and lots of love.
Don't get me wrong. My childhood was ideal. I was very happy, just a little lonely. My brother is several years older and my sisters several years younger, I was often by myself. So I created the Daltons. A place where I could be surrounded by people. People who cared as much for me as I did for them.
You see, I love people. I always have. It's hard though, loving people. People don't always love you back. Sometimes they are much more willing to take than they are to give. Sometimes they are pleasant enough, but very superficial. And sometimes they want nothing to do with you.
There are, however, those with whom you really connect. Those who reciprocate. The whole ying/yang of it all. Sometimes it's your turn to give and sometimes it's theirs. In the end there's a balance. It's called being there for each other, it's called really caring about their needs more than your own, it's called being blind to their little idiosyncrasies, it's called friendship.
So I wonder. Is it better to have a neighbor that is near than a brother far off? And I think the answer is yes. At least it should be anyway. We could all start by turning off our phones in the grocery store and have conversations with real people. It's just a thought.
I want to be the neighbor that is near.
