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On Tuesday, we’re officially—and finally—moving out of the house that we’ve called home for more than 11 years. We’re leaving New Rochelle, N.Y. for Southern California. It’s, for us, a bold, exciting, hard, unique life transition; one that has our heads spinning.

For me, one of the hardest parts is leaving Taymil Road, a truly magical strip that has, in many ways, changed my life.

Back when I was a kid, my street (Emerald Lane) in Mahopac, N.Y. was pretty dazzling. My best friend, Gary Miller, lived one house up. My other best friend, Dennis Gargano, lived two houses up. Come warm summer days, 10-to-15 kids would be outside on weekend evenings, playing night tag in the dark. In winter, we’d have snow-covered games of tackle football and sledding down the road. Again, dazzling. And, I thought, something I’d never see replicated.

Until I moved here.

Taymil Road hasn’t been a street for my family. It is, to borrow from Hillary Clinton, a village. An old-school village. My daughter and son were born and raised here, and over a long stretch I’ve watched all of the neighborhood kids jump on our trampoline and shoot hoops in our driveway and trick or trick up and down the block. My wife and I have looked after them. Their parents have looked after our children. There’s always someone outside, grilling or chatting or dribbling a ball up and down. We do community breakfasts. We have an annual street fair. Movie nights. Breakfast on the lawn. Lemonade stands. When the snow falls, my tykes immediately pick up the phone and call across the street. Then up the street. There is not one parent here I wouldn’t trust with my children. We’re a mixed bag of ethnicity and religion and geography—and that’s probably brought folks even closer.

It’s the best community I’ve ever been a part of and, almost certainly, the best community I ever will be a part of.

Alas, we wanted to take a stab at something breathtakingly new.

So here we go …