Until recently, if you had mentioned multigenerational living to me, I wouldn’t have assumed you were talking about my mom and me. After all, we haven’t lived under the same roof for nearly 20 years.
In the 20 years since I last lived with Mom, I’ve gotten married, become a mom, finished graduate school, and had a few different careers. In those same years, Mom built a life post-divorce, returned to the workforce and retired, served on the board of a nonprofit, became an activist for LGBTQ+ rights, and became Grandma to 10.
We also spent 14 of those years as next-door neighbors. This year brought a big change, though. She moved an hour and a half away, and we now find ourselves adapting to a post-multigenerational lifestyle.
My siblings teased me when I moved next door to our mom
When my family and I first bought my late grandparents’ house and moved next door to Mom, my siblings teased me. They said I was trying to be Mom’s favorite out of the four of us. But apart from the teasing, we all agreed that it was a perfect situation.
My husband, who suffers from severe respiratory disease, was going through a particularly difficult health decade, and my mom was still adapting to life after she and my dad amicably divorced. Being next door felt like a smart move for all of us.
Our side-by-side houses shared a couple of acres of wooded land, and I took over the care of both properties. Mowing, mulching leaves, helping Mom with her landscaping, moving 100 plants outside every spring and back inside every fall. Meanwhile, she was available anytime I needed to take my husband to the hospital or to another city for medical tests. She stayed with my kids while we dealt with ER trips and hospital stays.
When I got a call from Mom one day that I needed to come quickly — there was blood everywhere — I was at her side in less than a minute. She had suffered a nasty injury that required emergency care. When she had different surgeries over the years, it was easy for me to care for her in the comfort of her own home.
During the first year of COVID-19, we were in our own little world, gardening, swimming, and walking in the woods. After teaching online and writing all day, I could always stop by for a glass of wine and a chat. We also benefited from being each other’s dog-sitters — we never had to worry about our dogs staying in an unfamiliar kennel or with strangers.
My mom decided to move
Despite our rather idyllic life, with a little gravel path through the woods connecting the two homes, last year forced Mom to make some hard decisions. A new health diagnosis set things in motion: her spacious home and gorgeous landscaping would eventually be too much to manage.
After a period of reflection, she knew it was time to move.
I was relieved when she found a beautiful one-story home less than a mile from my sister’s house, yet sad that she would be 60 miles from me. I spent the entire summer helping her pack her things and sort her belongings for a giant moving sale that was the talk of the town.
The move arrived sooner than we expected.
In the months that have followed, the adjustment has been difficult. My kids miss her — and they also miss sneaking into her house to steal a can of pop or leave little drawings of hearts in all her drawers. She and my sister’s family are enjoying their new status as neighbors, but Mom does not yet feel at home. Living in one city for more than 70 years and then moving away isn’t easy.
Neither of us realized how lucky we were
I don’t think either of us realized how different it was to have family right next door and to have family a mile down the road. We didn’t know how lucky we had been, with such an easy distance between us.
There are a few small bright spots in all of this. First, my brother and his family bought her house and moved in next door, so our treasured little corner of the world remains in our family’s hands. Mom can walk her nature trail in the woods anytime she visits. Second, Mom and I now get to be overnight guests in each other’s homes, something that never happened before, because home was just a few steps away. This means that even though our visits are less frequent, they last longer now.
Every few weeks, I spend the weekend with her. She stays with us, too, sleeping over when she’s in town for a doctor’s appointment, a kid’s school performance, or a visit. How lovely it has been to have her stay all night, then share breakfast and coffee in the morning. It feels as familiar as always, but now, it feels more special.
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