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I grew up on a small lake in Northern New Jersey. The lake community is special, kind of like Hallmark-Christmas-movie special. Everyone knows everyone (and is in their business). Everyone learned to swim at the lake, then joined the swim team, turned 15 and became lifeguards, and then turned 16 and taught swimming lessons. We had parades just for the sake of parading at the lake. My childhood house sits on a hill overlooking the lake and is filled to the brim with memories of friends, family, and the good and challenges of life. We loved that house, and we said goodbye to it this Thanksgiving. After 36 years “on the lake,” my parents decided that the driveway was too steep to shovel (and always too steep for a plow) one more year, the rooms too big and empty to maintain, and the lake too full of other people’s grandchildren to stay any longer. They put it on the market on a whim, and it sold just as quickly. We spent Thanksgiving crying, laughing, and mostly remembering.

Rehashing those memories made me think about the spaces and memories I am creating for my children. I really loved my childhood. Honestly, I did NOT appreciate it while I was growing up. I did not understand how special it was until I went to college, but I now realize how lucky I was. I have been searching for that kind of space here in Delaware. A space where my kids can attend school with their friends through graduation. A space where they have a “parent” around every corner looking out for them. A space where I have parent friends going through parent things with me. A space where parent friends become real friends because we need to remember that we are humans, separate from our children, now and then. A space that just makes you smile when you think about it. We are still really, really new to Tatnall, but it definitely has the makings of that Hallmark Christmas movie feeling, and I am here for it.

I am sure Tatnall will feel too small for my kids while they are growing up. Knowing every parent on the hill at the football game will be mortifying at some point. The progression from summer camper to summer counselor might feel predictable. I know because I lived that life. But I also know that when they leave this out-of-a-movie bubble we are creating for them in this community, they will realize how lucky they are.

Gosh, I will be really old if I am at Tatnall for 36 years like my family was at the lake. Still, one day, when my kids are older, I am certain they will look back on their time in this Tatnall community and compare it to whatever channel, social media, streaming, AI controlled service that makes nostalgic movies about a time we all miss, in a place that is too perfect to be real and realize how filled up their hearts are.