At 69, we traded our empty-nester condo in the city for a much larger house in the suburbs

When my husband and I first became empty nesters more than 20 years ago, we moved from our suburban Maryland home to a two-bedroom condo in Arlington, Virginia.

We hoped to make some new friends as we started this chapter of our lives.

The city itself was fun, and the living environment was pleasant, but the proximity made it hard to connect with neighbors; it felt like everyone was protective of their privacy and space.

Fast forward 17 years, and our family looked a lot bigger with in-laws and four grandchildren.

Family gatherings at our condo started to feel tense and stifling: Aside from our small, not-toddler-friendly terrace, there was nowhere to comfortably escape if someone needed space.

Add retirement to this picture, and we started to realize we needed more breathing room — both for ourselves and our hobbies, and to host sleepovers with our youngest family members.

So, we moved to a four-bedroom home in the suburbs of Maryland near where we had previously resided, and closer to where our children and grandkids lived.

My immediate fear was that we would be outsiders, just the “old couple on the block.” With the exception of a few homeowners who had held onto their property despite being longtime empty nesters, everyone else on our cul-de-sac — and many people in the community itself — seemed closer to our children’s ages. (In fact, we’d later discover that one neighbor was in our daughter’s high-school class.) I didn’t expect to befriend our neighbors, and instead focused my energy on renewing relationships we’d had when we previously lived nearby.

I also started playing mah-jongg and pickleball to try to cultivate new ones.

We quickly discovered, though, that our immediate community members were very friendly.

We had just adopted a cock-a-poo, so when we noticed neighbors going on long morning walks, we started casually joining them.

I was surprised by how natural it felt to spend time together.

Regular dog-walking outings eventually graduated to happy hours and dinners.

Not only are we from different age groups, but we also have different cultural and ethnic backgrounds — some of the best times we’ve had include sharing foods from our different cultures.

Together, we’ve eaten Dominican stewed meat, arroz blanco, and habichuelas, Trinidadian roti, and New York-style matzo-ball soup and potato pancakes, all while having long talks about politics, movies, family relationships, travel, and more.

Of course, as adults of different ages, we don’t always share the same outlook on every topic — but we’ve learned to listen, appreciate, and respectfully disagree when our opinions diverge.

Naturally, as neighbors, our friendship has benefited from the proximity.

We can get together on short notice, and my husband and I have been able to count on our neighbors for help with dog walking, snow shoveling, and more.

We’ve also become close with our neighbors’ kids.

One of them plays piano beautifully, and used to come to our house to practice before his family bought a piano of their own.

Another shoots hoops with my husband.

One of our grandchildren has become a good playmate of one of our neighbors’ children, and runs to her house whenever she comes to visit us.

Many people in our age bracket might choose to spend retirement in a homogenous, 60-plus community where everyone’s a bit more generationally appropriate.

I don’t believe “age is just a number,” but I do believe it’s rewarding to put yourself out there.

My husband and I have learned we can communicate with people of all different ages and backgrounds if we stay open and willing to connect.