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00000177-ba84-d5f4-a5ff-bbfc9ac50000 WCAI is committed to airing local voices and stories. In addition to our news stories and sonic vignettes that air throughout the day, and our weekly features, we occasionally broadcast "slice of life" and "sense of place" essays from members of our community.

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I grew up in New York City, there was no such thing as “stopping by for an unexpected visit.” There is no “stopping by” in New York, period. If you’ve decided to pay someone a visit, you have committed to much more than that. You have committed to walking down a New York City street, to going underground for a subway ride, to having a conversation with a doorman, and to riding the elevator with strangers.

Here is different. Here, there is stopping by, all the time. If your car is in the driveway then there is a good chance that a friend passing by will notice and pop in. This friend doesn’t expect anything from you – you don’t have to whip up blueberry muffins and iced tea, or cancel your evening plans. In fact, they’ll probably be leaving just as you’ve finally pried that old ice out of your ice trays and dropped it into two glasses.

I have one friend down the road who swears by the unexpected visit. As a new mom, she says she loves the company, the impromptu check-ins. When I asked if I could at least text her before I planned to come over, she said, “No, I love it when I’m surprised.” A few days later, I finally got up the courage to stop by for a visit on my way home. When she opened the door, she looked exasperated, bouncing her baby on her hip. “I forgot to tell you,” she said, shooing me inside. “Don’t knock, just come in.”

Since then, I have tried, without success, to just go in. She insists that it’s easier, that she can’t hear a knock from the back of her house, and that the worse case scenario couldn’t possibly be that bad. But all I can think about it is how unpleasantly surprised I’d be if someone did the same for me. What if I were plucking my eyebrows in the living room? Or having a loud one-person dance party? These are things that people don’t need to see. This is why the doorbell was invented.

It has taken me nearly two years to get used to the unexpected visit. It no longer alarms me when someone stops by unannounced, and I don’t immediately assume they have come to deliver bad news. In fact, these visits usually involve a dozen fresh eggs, or a piece of town gossip. And, at the very least, conversation with a friend. The kind of conversation that I longed for in New York, walking down the street and passing face after face, feeling overwhelmed by the anonymity of myself and everyone around me.

The other day, I an unexpected visit. As I walked up to my friend’s front door, my heart was racing – I was worried it wasn’t a good time, or they wouldn’t be happy to see me. But my friend opened the door, one hand covered with an oven mitt, and smiled. “Come in,” she said, “I’m just baking cookies.”

Seriously. She said that.