I live in one of Baltimore's hidden gem neighborhoods: Ednor Gardens-Lakeside. Even though I'm from Baltimore, I didn't know about this neighborhood until one of my friends moved there. It's nestled between the more prominent, popular neighborhoods of Charles Village and Waverly. You'll know you're in a magical place once you find it.
During the height of COVID-19, about a year after moving here, I was working at home feeling incredibly lonely and sad. I spent a lot of time outside on my back porch. The chirping birds, squirrels running up trees, and cats roaming kept my anxiety at bay, at least for a little while. Around 3 pm each day, a group of kids from the house nearby would come out into the alley with their tiny white fluffy dog to play tag and dribble their basketball. My next-door neighbor would be on his porch. Sometimes we talked, and sometimes we didn’t, but at least he was there.
My neighbor on the other side was a sweet older woman named Dee. Even before COVID, I only saw her in person when she parked in the back alley, and I watched her take her groceries inside, sending her a wave hello. But during COVID, she barely left the house because she was immunocompromised, so we started chatting on the phone regularly. She told me many stories about her life – of her children and grandchildren – and gave me advice about random things. We talked about the food we liked, and she often suggested new recipes. I put her on speakerphone so Hasan could speak to her, too.
Our neighborhood association supported neighbors in many ways when the world shut down. We created this list of ways to help – from picking up groceries to calling and checking in on people. We collected donations. This small group of us divided up the work. The pain of COVID was overwhelming, but helping neighbors didn’t feel that way. For a while, I picked up medicines and groceries for a neighbor. When I dropped them off, I stood at her front door talking for a long time, with glass separating us. She loved to talk to me, mainly talking about cats; she loved her cats.
The neighborhood's COVID days got me lusting for more, and my feelings about Ednor Gardens grew profoundly and unexpectedly. What began as random moments of connection and belonging turned into my community. Every day, I notice the people who show up to make it function as a communal system.
What inspires me the most are the in-between moments, the day-to-day ones, and before and after official “neighborhood stuff” – the group chats where jokes are made and requests for spices or a helping hand to move something. I see the kid across the street doing cartwheels from my window. It’s giving people walking by some peaches off our tree. It’s when two young kids come to us when we’re grilling to ask if we can give their grandma some of the food we’re making. It’s also homemade Turkish food left at our doorstep. My amazing friend and neighbor often leave little gifts on our porch, along with being a walking buddy and many other shared moments. There are SO many different moments of people and things I could share.
It feels like an honest attempt at being a community, and it has made me learn and reflect on how neighborhoods become communities and the work it takes to maintain that. Not all neighborhoods are, sometimes; they’re just a place where your house is located, and that's okay, too. At a time when words like community, belonging, connection, and care get thrown around, it’s been nice to see what can follow the words or maybe even come before them.
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Thank you for giving us this window into your loving community. adrienne maree brown writes, “Interdependence is iterative” and “it’s a series of small repetitive motions.” I’ve come to believe that community is similarly built through the repetition of small motions…showing up again and again. Thank you for shining a light on the importance of these small moments.