Not long ago I ran into an old friend at a party. After a few minutes of the usual catching up chatter, I was really enjoying myself. I was thinking about how happy I was that fate brought us both to this particular party, and made a mental note to invite her to coffee or lunch. Then she asked where I lived. I told her and got the, “Oh, wow. Well I’ve heard some nice things about that neighborhood. But it’s so far out there.”

I suddenly became very thirsty and excused myself to find the nearest bottle of wine and a bendy straw.

Are you thinking I must live in a hovel on the moon? Close, except it’s not a hovel and it’s no closer to the moon than most other houses. We do, however, live in… the suburbs. Granted, the burbs here are different than burbs in many cities, and we’re not that far from the action. It takes me all of 20-25 minutes to get downtown. Maybe 30-35 in bad traffic. Where I used to live, it sometimes took ten minutes just to get out of my driveway, so the travel time doesn’t bother me. But all the same, our neighborhood is decidedly un-urban and typically suburban in many ways.

My husband and I are former city dwellers and will always be city dwellers in our hearts. We adore being able to walk everywhere, being in the middle of it all. He occasionally tries to go rural on me, and talks about wanting to own land and have a big workshop. I hum the Green Acres theme song and tell him that sounds like a lovely place for him to live. With his new wife. Aside from his occasional countrified daydreams, my husband is, like me, a city person. We like walking to restaurants and book stores, and not having to look for parking.

We tried the burbs once when we were young and newly married, because the neighborhood was geographically between our two offices. It did not work out and only eight months after building a home we sold it and moved back to town.

So what possessed us to become suburbanites again? It was the right thing for us at the moment. We carefully weighed our wants, needs, goals, hopes, dreams, blah, blah, blah and decided that, for now, this suburban neighborhood made the most sense for our family. And for once, we were actually right. We have the best neighbors – people we genuinely look forward to seeing every day. What a concept.

We still miss living in a more urban setting, but I cannot begin to describe how many times we have looked at each other and counted our blessings. Our neighbors say the same thing – this is the best street. When the time comes for us to move back to the city it’s going to be hard to leave our neighbors. But I’ll console myself by walking to the coffee shop.

The misguided conversation I had with my old friend got me thinking about judgement, especially as it pertains to our relationships. Family. Co-workers. Friends. Spouses. While we do have to make judgement calls all the time (Is this the right school for my child? Can I be friends with this woman long term?), I don’t think we should ever stand in true judgement of anyone else or the decisions they make.

I have to work on this more than I really want to admit. I struggle and find myself thinking horrible, judgy thoughts. That’s not who I want to be at all. I do not want to believe I am that person at heart. When it happens I am appalled and wonder what got in to me.

I strive to operate on the assumption that everyone makes their decisions for a reason that makes perfect sense. To them. I might not understand their reasoning. Whatever they’re doing may seem to be way out in left field. But that’s fine. It’s their life and only they have to be happy with the decision.

So I’m wondering, how does it make you feel when you realize someone is passing judgement on your life? Do you struggle with this at all, either as judge or judgee?

A quick side note: Lately I have been thinking a lot about relationships, specifically friendship. Several things have happened over the last few years, including the snobbery I encountered about my choice of neighborhood, that have left me wondering about friendship. Specifically, I’ve really struggled with how to approach new friendships in my adult life. It’s so much easier to make friends as a child or in college when you live with, eat with, go to class with people day in and day out for years.

I recently found a lovely and well written blog about friendship – MWF Seeks BFF – and as I read her posts I find myself constantly nodding my head in agreement and laughing along with her. Since I frequently think, That’s exactly how I feel!, I imagine that there will be a day when I post nothing and instead direct you to her site, saying, “My thoughts exactly.”