Good fences, good neighbors? Part II

I began writing this from our back patio, surrounded by new fencing. We have successfully shielded ourselves from the frequent acquaintance of our neighbors. Interestingly, I remember it being much more quiet when there were no visible boundaries. Lively sounds now waft over the scalloped edges of our fence (except on one side, where the neighbors insisted on a straight fence): I hear grandchildren laughing, and the reserved couple on one side brought out a radio for the first time since we have lived here. The saucy music of their native Brazil provided the soundtrack to our daughter's experiment with riding a swingset while wearing a wet bathing suit (for the record, it makes for a wild ride down the slide and proves quite a challenge to stay on an aerodynamic swing).

There's something satisfying and yet sad about all the effort that goes into guarding ourselves. Still, listening to the sounds of life all around us, I realize we are not quite isolated. Recently, however, a friend commented that in his neighborhood, fences are neither required nor desired--a neighborhood full of children near the same age. It's nice to think of a neighborhood like that--with shared spaces and swingsets. We have a taste of that on the street side of our neighborhood. Instead of shared backyards, the communal property seems to be basketball goals, T-ball posts, a court perfect for riding bicycles and flying kites, sidewalks made just for chalk art.

It's our ultimate hope (and promise) that one day there will be no need for boundaries, but in the here and now, we draw our lines, build our fences, and go about our lives as best we can, learning something about ourselves--and our neighbors--as we go.