Borders

Growing up, the whole town had the same zip code, the same local phone prefix, the same everything. One elementary, one middle school, one high school. One everything pretty much.

So with that I find it rather amusing that I realized the other day I live on the edge of the universe so to speak.

My back fence is the border between:

• The city/county line
  
• 2 Zip codes
• 2 school districts
• Our church neighborhood congregational boundaries
• Stage legislative district
• 2 Police and fire districts
• 2 Water service districts
• 2 Trash services and recycling services
• And other random little things

We're also in the "grey zone" between a township and a neighborhood - both claim us - sort of. It's like our block is the step-child of the neighborhood.

It is, to be honest, not a bad place to be. Himself gets to be technically in the 'burbs. I get to be a few minutes from downtown and have access to city services without having to pay the extra city taxes. And - bonus! - we can have chickens in our yard. Seriously. We don't actually have chickens in our yard, because while I love the romantic notion of raising my own chickens and gathering fresh eggs in the morning (particularly since I'm apparently raising kids who would happily subsist on nothing but eggs and sliced apples), I really have no desire to actually have chickens inhabit the same space I do. But still, because we live on our side of the fence, we could have chickens if we wanted. And really that's all that matters is the notion that one can do something, even if one will actually never do it.

At the same time - the other side of our back fence may as well be Mars - short of standing on a step-stool to yell over it, the people that live in the mysterious redbrick house on the other side walk in totally different circles - schools, churches, neighborhood meetings, legslative affairs - heck, even their trash comes on a different day.

Kind of mind-boggling for a kid that only had to dial 4 digits to call someone in the same town until she was in the 9th grade.

Mourning.

My sister lost her baby yesterday. A baby whom she had carried for nearly 3 months, who had taken a very long time to come into being - who would have joined his/her 4-year-old sister and parents in a brand-new home. A home with a nursery - just in case.

A baby that was due around Pebbles' birthday. The one I greeted with even more joy than normal, because it lessened the discomfort of packing all of my baby clothes and maternity clothes and infant items in the dark corner of the garage - not quite certain I was ready to part iwth them forever, but nearly certain there will be no more babies. A baby - in the same season mine were born - meant some of my things would get more use, more love, more memories. I got the news, via text, at work. I tried not to cry. I tried to be an adult and not grab my keys and my wallet and drive the 300 miles to mourn with my only sister. I pulled out a journal entry later to re-read my own experiences with miscarriage - vastly different, but still painful.

I told Woodstock - who has been praying for the baby at every meal, every bedtime. "Aunt's baby went to heaven," I said - using that vague phrase parents pull out when they don't know how to give any more details.

Woodstock grew solemn, and then brightened, "I know! I can be Aunt's baby for a little bit - so she won't miss her other baby." Then her little face looked as if she was deep in thought. A while later she piped up: "Did her baby go to heaven with the raccoon that got ran over?" I was startled - a year ago, on our walk, Woodstock had seen a raccoon lying in the road - having her first brush with death. I was surprised she even remembered.

"Yes," I said "Something like that."
"That's good she said. The raccoon can help the baby."

Funny how kids instincively have a belief of the continuum of life - that we once existed, now exist, will always exist. Without question, they understand the eternal nature of life itself - even if their application is a bit off.

Today, I noticed Woodstock's prayers changed. "Please bless Aunt's baby to be okay in heaven. And please help Aunt have a new baby."

Amen.