By Laura Johnstone
This morning was one of those where everything felt a little heavy. Amelia had been up just after 5am (a time no human should be upright unless they’re being paid for it), and by the time we were on our way to Grandma and Grandad’s and the Place session, she fell asleep in the buggy. I should have felt relief. But I just felt a little sad.
Sad because the cold I’ve been fighting hasn’t fully shifted. Sad because life’s just been so busy lately that we’ve not been able to go to Hope Hive as much as we used to. And even sadder still because Amelia now goes to crèche two mornings a week, which makes those beautiful community moments feel fewer and further between.
But then — as life often does — something shifted.
On the walk to the train, I bumped into the one and only Rebecca Hope of Hope Hive. I know people say “you don’t need a village, you need a town” — and if that’s the case, Rebecca is the matriarch of mine.
She was on her way to the school where she’s a governor, still giving so much of herself to the community. It was one of those little five-minute chats that leaves your heart a bit fuller and your load a bit lighter. We were saying how much we still love the Hive, and how much it still means to us, even though we’re not there quite as much these days. She reminded me that we’re always welcome, and that they’ll see us Monday (hopefully by then, my cold will have cleared and Amelia won’t catch it!).
Community doesn’t always look like what you expect. It’s not always the neighbour who brings round soup, or the friend who pops in unannounced (though those things are beautiful too). Sometimes it’s the people who build spaces for others, like Rebecca. People who connect mums with other mums, who remember your story, who hold space even when you’re not there every week.
I often hear the phrase “it takes a village to raise a child,” but honestly? I think it takes a town — a whole network of people, places, and pockets of love. And I’m so grateful for the ones who make that town feel like home.
If you’ve got a Rebecca in your life — tell them thank you. If you haven’t yet found your “town,” keep going. They’re out there. And if you’re ever near the Hope Hive, you’ll find a welcome that warms you right to your bones.
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