There's just something comforting about being home.Your body melts from holding the attention stance of being in an unfamiliar place. There is a lightness to your step and an effortlessness about your behavior. You have conquered this place and know exactly what to expect from it. This is where you are rooted.
The drive from Bluffton to Charleston is a spiritual one for me. It used to be 45 miles of two-lane road along the coast of South Carolina. Breathtaking views of the Coast are interspersed with miles of forest and remnants of towns that once thrived in the Old South. For most of the drive, the land revealed no signal of time or era or having been touched by man. I feel a twinge of anger and regret at the sight of the large cranes and orange cones as they manipulate this beauty to bend to man's whim. I fear it will never be the same. It will never be the same. Almost as soon as a pit starts to rise in my stomach, the sultry smell of pluff mud and sweet grass brings calm over me. My lips begin to mouth the words of a familiar country song that comes across the radio as if it is an innate response. I open the windows in order to take in every moment. The chirr of the cicada signals it is summertime and sunset is coming. The whoosh of thick, warm air envelops me as if offering a hug. I smirk at my moment of nostalgia thinking this, too must be the thought of each generation enduring "progress." So I concede to the four-lane highway like many Carolinians before me. Our beloved Carolina will never be the same but it will always be beautiful. It will always be home.
No comments:
Post a Comment