Jen's Column / 6.07.06

Here’s a truth about Rochester: We are a city of transplants. In the ten years my husband and I have called Rochester home, we’ve met countless others who, like us, came in “for a year or two,” fell in love with the city and decided to stay.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have any luck convincing our extended family to join the converted and make the move. So, like thousands of our neighbors, we’ve learned to build relationships that serve some of the roles traditionally played by siblings or parents. Someone to call when the car breaks down. Someone to pencil in on the “Emergency Contact” form. Someone to watch the kids when you need a last-minute root canal.

Now, if you’re really lucky, those people don’t just fill the roles. They become family.
Six years ago, Sara and Mitch (a.k.a. Saraandmitch) moved into the house behind us with a baby, a dog, two cats, and a hematology fellowship.

They hadn’t been in their house a week before a gate went in the fence — and a friendship was born. Our children play (and fight) like cousins. Our husbands watch zombie movies and make amateur films and play poker. Sara and I average six phone calls a day just to say, “Whatcha up to?” or “You’ll never guess what just happened” Or, “I can quit throwing up. Can you come get the kids?”

When we go out of town, they get our mail. And feed our cat. And, on occasion, drive to our house after an irrational call to make sure the karaoke machine is unplugged.

And we do the same for them. Once, while babysitting their dog Abby (a.k.a. AbbyAbbyAbby!), the little furball vomited in front of our dinner guests. Twice. And, yet, we still love them.

Here’s the real test: When they stop over unexpectedly, I let them in the house — no matter how much unfolded laundry is piled in the living room. And when they stop over expectedly, I don’t spend all day cleaning. I don’t even have to say, “Don’t look at the mess! It’s not usually like this.” Because they know it’s usually like this — and that’s OK.

In the last six years, Sara and Mitch have become our cheerleaders, our sounding boards, our entertainment. And our family. (Sara actually hand delivered Ben & Jerry’s when I was having a long day a few weeks ago. If that’s not a sister, I don’t know what is.)

Now here’s another truth of living in Rochester: People move. They come in, they do their fellowship or their internship or their rotation — and they leave. And those of us who are here to stay know this. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

Later this month, we’ll throw a going-away party for Sara and Mitch as they, like so many Rochesterites before them, move on to the next phase in their lives.

When they leave — taking their children and their pets with them — life is going to change for us. But as hard as it is to see them go, we take solace in one final truth: Once family, always family. And that’s true whether by blood or by choice.