It’s been a year by Ruth Neuwald Falcon

With the creation of a photo montage of the day’s activities, my phone just reminded me that a year ago today I arrived in New York State.

Yesterday, my new apartment complex held its end-of-summer party. I gazed from my balcony down into the courtyard while a crew set up the barbecue and put out large platters of food. People greeted each other as they lined up to get served. There was the occasional shout of laughter and an irregularly occurring thumping sound as small heavy bags were pitched in the general direction of cornhole boards.

For the past two weeks, ever since I got the notification about the party, I had been looking forward to this opportunity to meet my neighbors. But looking forward is not the same as actually leaving my apartment, riding down in the elevator, and entering a crowd of strangers. I felt like I was in junior high again, bracing myself to face the lunchroom, wondering if there would be any space at a table where I could perch, wondering if anyone would talk to me, if there would be anyone I could feel comfortable with.

Six hours later, I returned to my apartment. It turns out this complex isn’t like junior high at all. I have been looking for a place with a strong community culture and, while I’m still an outsider, it looks like I may have found it. As one woman said, “If people don’t like all the diversity of age, race, sexual preference, whatever, they quickly figure out that this isn’t the place for them.” Her husband added, “We lived in our home for more than thirty years. It’s not that I didn’t meet some nice people. But I’ve made more connections in the three years we’ve been here than the three decades we lived there.”

Today, I’m still very much on my own. I know it will take time to make friends. But I thank my phone for reminding me that I’ve come a long way in a year. And my neighbors for making me feel welcome.