I live in a beautiful neighborhood. It is actually the neighborhood I grew up in, but not the neighborhood my children grew up in.

Until two years ago, we lived in a lovely little house in the woods where it was no surprise to see wild turkeys, deer, rabbits, a fox or two, raccoons, voles, and bears, in addition to the usual squirrels and chipmunks.

My boys played in creeks, played in the woods, and believe it or not, went to the same school from age three to fifteen.

Life does hold many surprises and one of them, for us, was the necessity to carve out a new life. I went "back home" where my parents still resided. While it was familiar to me, it was all new to my children. They must be made of resilient stuff because they have adjusted beautifully. My daughter had only lived in "Pennsylvania House" for two years, so the move was less stressful for her. But my sons had lived their whole lives in the country (13 and 15 years respectively) and they had to adjust to living in the big city, new schools, new challenges.

It hasn't been easy. Sometimes it seemed that we would never be happy again, that we would always feel uprooted. Problems abounded and the turmoil we felt was mirrored by the rocky shore we now ride our bikes by.

Eventually, we looked at our move as an adventure. We've celebrated birthdays, holidays, a graduation from middle school, a graduation from pre-Kindergarten, and we have even had dinner, al fresco, in Little Italy.

This summer marks our two year anniversary here. We can now call it home. All of us agree that it has turned out to be a good thing, even with the pains and challenges. We are a family, and we live in a beautiful neighborhood.