Relationship with The Queen City: Complicated

Clouds lift me higher into the sky. Wisps of soft fluff wrap my body in cool comfort. The slow ascent into the ethers above proves a slight wind that is like a balm alongside the unimaginable warmth of my personal cloud transport. Just as I break above the top of the clouds and begin to see the stratosphere, a bird, stark dark against the white bulbous landscape stretching beyond me. The bird lands sharp at the top of my cloud pillow. And begins to squawk. Incessantly. And before I blink, I am tumbling out of my very real heaven hurtling quickly towards the earth below. 

I jerk awake. Fuck it’s Monday. 

I hit the alarm on the cell phone with my eyes closed, trying to grasp any figments of the dream that are quickly fading away. I hear a pumping of breaks and I wait for the crash that I am sure to follow. And sure enough: CRAAAAMMMMSHHH! I don’t hear an immediate horn after so hopefully no one has vitally hurt themselves. After the horn that signals an immediate DOA after a crash was well outside the appropriate time frame, the horns of backed up drivers on the road soon starts. “The Honeymoon is officially over” I think as I open my eyes and bring into focus the ceiling fan and ceiling of the bedroom. 

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As I head out of the door for the day, I get the first whiff of Charlotte, NC morning. That first inhale of morning air is always a grounding experience. The earth and dewey smell of the thick air reminds you that the Carolinas used to be renowned for its agriculture. Good stuff grew and fed many people here one time in history. For a moment I am taken back to times of waking up early for a big family trip or to welcome someone coming to visit. It’s a scent that translates as a promise of something new. And then the current city smell rushes in and kills the freshness of the morning. Car gas fumes, warming trash, and remains of food that refuse to decompose properly mix and skew the composition of the morning air. Maybe I chose to block out the city smell when we first arrived, But after 7 years, 2 jobs, lost income and an emergency exit from a rental due to an exploding toilet, I’ve had my fill of Charlotte. The relationship was all parasocial and I’m the last to know.

Hopping in the car, I try to relax. That’s the best way to take on the roads of Charlotte. Go in with high energy, ready to road rage with anyone will find yourself in a hospital quick. I used to get really upset about how people drove here in Charlotte. Then I had The Incident. The one incident that made me realize that I should give pause and not freak out at every traffic insurrection. Scenario: Stopped at a red light to turn red. The light turns green to make the turn and the sedan in front of me had not moved immediately. So I lay on my horn the second it turns, while at the same time the sedan moves maybe a foot or two. And then they suddenly stop. While the light remained green and turned red again. Now, I had every right to be upset sure. But what was I going to do? Get out and kick ass over a traffic light? It wasn’t worth it and since then it’s always been going onto the road with an ease. Centering self for a conversation with myself and the road. As I pull out of the drive, I’m nearly greeted with my own morning collision. Avoided. And I pull out onto the road with my audiobook already playing. 

The city used to be manageable when we first moved. I even used to take the highway like I had a death wish. Not anymore. While GPS may lead the newcomers of Charlotte onto highways for faster commutes, anyone that has been here over 5 years knows the backroads are the way to go. Sure we had to plan our outings a bit more detailed than just putting on sweats and walking to a Chinese buffet down the street. No, it’s more detailed. But the options to choose from are endless. Charlotte is where we discovered craft beer and can rattle on about stouts, goses, and pilsners for hours and debate which of the many local breweries make the best. Charlotte is where phò became so much of a staple that we had it for Christmas dinner last year. Hatian food with starchy yellow plantains and dark curried goat, we got it. Ethiopian food eaten with fingers, grabbing bits of kitfo with injera, we got it. French baked goods served round the clock, we got it. Literally every cuisine south of Mexico, from tacos to pupusas, we have it in some representation, some rendition here in Charlotte to choose from. And what is almost better than the food is the discovery process and sharing the unique experience with someone. Someone. Not half of Charlotte which it seems like nowadays. Either I’m outgrowing the city I had so much hope for or Charlotte is expanding way faster than I can keep up. The new condos going up on the corner says that it is the latter reason. 

As I drive down the neighborhood streets, making my way to the main road, the rapid changes of Charlotte are visually evident. After this year of job loss, a lot of people in even larger cities like San Francisico and New York City see our cheaper living as desirable. But “cheaper” is relative. As I pull onto the main road, the street looks very similar to many streets in the Queen City. On one side there are newly redeveloped houses with newly painted porches and shutters. Freshly cemented driveways. Windows so bare, glass so clean you can see the new paint on the walls from the road. Just waiting for new occupants looking for a new start. On the other side are homes that need care. Homes that have been standing since the 60’s with minor renovations. The tenants of these homes have cars parked in the driveway, on the lawn, on the side of the road as many share one domicile. The property owners will wait for these long timers to move out for some desperate reason before the property sees a proper renovation and a rental rate priced right out of the income range of most who live in the area. A family just moving into town will rent the property making new memories, and unknowingly burying past knowledge of the previous occupants.

I stop at a crosswalk and let a few kids cross the street to the elementary school that is within walking distance. The group is a mix of different, youthful skin tones and facial features that express diverse backgrounds. They talked and laughed and passively crossed the road not minding my waiting car. I let them go and watched. While not having kids of my own, I can still find joy in kids finding joy. There is something about that uninhibited fierce happiness that is contagious. I catch myself remembering times when the group’s relative age. Societal norms being an incomprehensible pairing of words. The only desire being to live and find connections with others who wanted the same. A horn blares behind me. The kids are already past the corner. Snapped out of my nostalgia, I move on.