I often get asked, “When are you moving back to the South?”
I don’t feel like I have a short, compelling answer. It’s complicated. The reasons why I choose to live far from my family and my roots is confusing for some people. Why wouldn’t I just move home? Perhaps some of you have this same experience if you’ve moved from the South.
Sometimes, I confess, it gets a little confusing for me, too. I love New York City. It has become my home. But I have these moments like, “What am I doing here?”
Perhaps you’re wondering what this has to do with the photograph above. This was taken by my friend outside of her West Village (Manhattan, NYC) apartment building yesterday. It is 100% real. First the sign on the left was posted. Then the one on right. (I fuzzed the phone number on purpose)
It was upon seeing the second sign that I declared, “I love New York.” Which is strange. Because I dislike snakes. In particular I have nightmares about Copperheads.
But there’s something in those signs. The back and forth and the tone that calls out to me. These are my people. These crazy, snake-loving, sarcastic, ambitious, know-it-alls are my tribe. This is where I should be. I belong in NYC.
I’m writing this from my childhood bedroom in Atlanta, GA. We had great weather today, and I may meet up with some friends tonight. I had a Krystal hamburger for lunch, visited the vegetable man, drove a pickup, and sat on the front porch. I love all of these things.
But, for now at least, I’ll make my home where the lose apartment snakes roam.