Running the fence

Every afternoon, the dog waits expectantly by the sliding glass door for  me to let him out. I push the door open and he waits on the deck, staring intently at the backyard of our next door neighbor. The next door neighbor, though a strange and somewhat scary man, has two dogs – one of them a beagle who spends a lot of time in the backyard.

Our puppy likes to play with the beagle – the stand on opposite sides of the fence and stare each other down. They run up and down the length of the fence separating our two yards. Sometimes they bark at each other through the metal. Sometimes they dig through the snow, attempting to tunnel their way between the two yards.

When the puppy is out there with the beagle, he’ll stay outside for ages.

(He’s nuts. It’s freezing out there. And people say dogs are smart?)

And in a way, it’s how I feel after returning home from Nashville – like I’m standing on the deck expectantly waiting for someone to run the fence with.

For days, I was surrounded by friends and people I adore and admire – I had ready access to hugs when I needed them or just when I wanted them. There were people I knew from before and new friends made.

We meet before we meet – reading each other’s stories, and knowing all the small talk “where are you from – do you have kids – what do you do – what are your pet peeves – who what when where why” details that fill those moments when you first meet someone. Instead, we meet and we say, “I know you.”

And so my friendships are far flung and geographically dispersed and so I’m home. The network I have locally is not like the frienships I have made through blogging and Twitter and stuff. I struggle because I don’t enjoy superficial friendships – it’s never been enough to me to forge a friendship on the sole bonding factor of “Oh, your kid is in Mrs. Smith’s class? Mine too”. I need more than that.

That’s not to say that I am lacking friendships – it’s just, they’re different. When you meet and bond over words, you skip past several layers of small talk to the core of who someone is.

I miss the camaraderie. I miss the laughing. I miss the dancing. I miss the kinship.

I’m just sitting in my yard, staring at the fence.

About sarah

Sarah is a book nerd, a music lover, an endorphin junkie, a coffee addict. Oh, and a goof ball. She writes, she tweets, and she sings off key.


  1. I totally want to run the fence with you.

    We seriously need to meet up halfway sometime because I am pretty sure that you aren’t that far from me, relatively speaking.

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