The Outsiders

After a long hiatus due to relentless snowstorms, Noah and I recently took one of our random walks around the neighborhood. It was good to catch up with our neighbor, Marge, who might as well change her last name to cookie, because that's always the next word out of Noah's mouth after Marge.

The whole experience of being an outsider was brand new to me when we moved to Lebo. Growing up, I didn't venture outside with other people unless there was a planned activity. In fact, I found walking the streets of my neighborhood so boring that my body would unconsciously start jogging to wherever I was going.

Although we didn't have much to show for it except a cookie and some wet shoes, the experience of taking a stroll around the block, chatting with a few neighbors, and hiding behind the bushes from Noah was exhilarating.

When I come home from work I secretly hope that I won't even get my feet through the door, that Noah will be pressed against the glass like a bull ready to charge the ring. For me, coming home is looking for the next dog to pet, stick to swing, Mini Cooper driving by, or just a random person so he can proclaim, "Hi, I'm Noah. We're going to the Hobby Shop!"

The past two years have brought new meaning to the phrase, "Let's take this outside." Compared to completely different phases of my life, sometimes I've accomplished the least but experienced the most being an outsider with my family.