I've lived in the suburbs basically my whole life. And yes, it is just as Mary Reynolds sings, "little boxes on the hillside/little boxes all the same/there's a green one and a pink one/and a blue one and a yellow one/and they're all made out of ticky tacky/and they all look just the same". There is a sort of "ho-hum" feel when people think of suburbia but there is poetry in it too. The friends you meet in elementary school are often the same friends you go to high school with, the same friends who live right around the street, the same friends you hang out with in the lull of the summer, the same friends you know your whole life.
Ever since I moved here, ever since elementary school, I've been friends with essentially the same girls. Our friendship over the years has waxed and waned...there were times when we grew apart and found new friends and times when we couldn't get enough of each other. As we've been growing older though, I think we've all come to appreciate just how precious it is to have friends who have known you all your life. Who shared those awkward teen years with you. Who were there during the giddy beginnings of your first love. Who held your hand when that didn't end up being all it promised to be. Who were there just to lament the humdrum life of suburbia with you. That's pretty damn poetic, if you ask me...and it all happened in the "little boxes made out of ticky tacky".
This year we all graduated university and just like that we've been propelled into the real world with responsibilities (or at least the expectation of it) weighing on our shoulders. We're moving on to dental school, medical school, full-time jobs, and all that grown up stuff you hear about all your life. It's weird.
We spent this summer traveling (albeit separately) before we had to go on and do all of the things I mentioned above. When we all got back from our travels, my girlfriends and I drove up to the beach as we often do during the summer. And after the excitement and rush of constantly moving around for the past couple of months, there was this indelible simplicity where the whole world retreated and we had a moment's respite. Driving along the countryside with the music pumping, our legs out the windows, the wind blowing our faces numb, the sun coming down. It was all too perfect. Like time was in suspension for us to enjoy the last few moments before our lives and our worlds would change.
I know I make this out to be incredibly dramatic, but honestly in my brain this plays out like a great coming of age movie. Except it's not a movie. It's real life. And real life is messier, richer, more nuanced, and altogether more poetic than any Woody Allen film. So to the little boxes I've known all my life, thank you for giving me the loves of my life and the perfect setting for our friendship to unfold.