The Villager

I decided a while ago that I wanted to be the villager. I can't tell you exactly when it happened or where I got it, but the idea stuck: show up for people, and don't make it a thing that it cost you something.

The internet keeps telling me to do the opposite. Protect your peace. You don't owe anyone anything. Guard the calendar, decline the favor, keep your energy for yourself. Some of that is fair. Boundaries are real, and I'm not making a case for being a doormat.

But somewhere in all the self-protecting, we started treating every inconvenience like a bill we never agreed to pay. I think that's the wrong math. Inconvenience is the price of community. It's not a glitch in friendship. It's the actual thing.

Inconvenience is the price of community.

So I do the airport runs. I once spent a whole day driving around chasing down a friend's stolen wallet. I'll wait with you at the doctor's. None of it is impressive, and that's sort of the point. This isn't about grand gestures or lighting yourself on fire for other people. It's just effort, handed over without keeping score.

Effort is the part people can feel. When you go a little out of your way, it tells someone they're seen, and you can't fake that or send it as a Venmo request. I don't do it to be owed something back. That's what makes it work: unconditional, no expectations, just the effort.

The peace I'd be protecting by staying home was never worth more than the people I'd be protecting it from.