So it’s been about two, three months now? Since I moved out of dads. And I think I have finally adjusted to my new surroundings. The street I currently live on, feels like it’s come out of some Hollywood picture perfect sort of film. Like the Truman Show or something. I have always lived in a nice upper middle class neighbourhood (if that makes sense) but I have never seen a community so close and friendly with each other.
As I helped my friends dad (better father figure than my real father hands down) with the weeding, I began to mull over the current situation and my surroundings in my head. As we pulled the weeds out, we discussed the origins of mead in medieval times, and other various aspects of medieval times. Such as architecture, gender roles, beer brewing etc. And as this was going on, the neighbours children were outside playing, and upon seeing us pulling the weeks walked over and started to help us. I felt perplexed. Here we were having a typical Saturday doing your average family sort of thing. The kids were telling us stories, and the boy was talking to me about soccer.
I looked around at the perfectly mowed lawns and trimmed hedges. The shiny polished cars, and other happy kids playing in their yards amongst themselves and the parents getting involved. I couldn’t help but wonder what growing up in this environment (from day one) would of been like. It wasn’t long before the kids father came over and said hi, then took his son back to their yard and started playing soccer with him. As I mentioned earlier on, the boy (was about eight) was talking to me about soccer. He was very proud because he made it into some special soccer league, and was within the top five for his age group at school. Every afternoon after school, I hear him and his dad playing soccer together. I watched them kick the ball together, and listened to his father giving him tips on how to be the best. I thought back to when I was around his age, and how much I liked soccer. Then I remember all those weekends I spent kicking the ball against the wall by myself, because father didn’t want or have time, and mum was busy doing the house work after a full week at work. I remember being out there all day on the weekends, because I was trying to get better for try outs for the team. I never made it into the team of course.
The thing that really gets to me, is my friends parents are trying so hard to get me involved, to make me feel like I belong. But whenever I feel like I do or they try and have a parental sort of conversation with me, I just feel completely out of place, like I don’t belong here. Take tomorrow (well actually today) for instance. It’s Easter. And they are going to a friends for dinner and we are all expected to attend. I feel weird about going. What are there friends going to say about me? What are they going to ask me? How are they going to explain my presence there? They also want to take me to dads tomorrow to say hi. I don’t want to go. And they are in the process of organising my enrolment back into high school. I appreciate all the effort and it does make me feel good, but some how it just reminds how this isn’t truly my place. My family. Maybe it is a little too late.