Charleston! Oh, Charleston!

October 2, 2015 LifeThoughts  3 comments

Ladies & Gents-

It’s been three months, so I figured I’d make the official announcement:

We are on our next great adventure. We have moved—to the Lowcountry, baby. Sweet-tea, sunny-coastal South Carolina.

We sold half our shit (seriously, not even kidding), packed up the rest of it, sold the house, & now reside in an appropriately-sized very-cute developmentally-appropriate apartment.

While my decisions may seem impulsive from the outside—reckless and irresponsible and selfish—truly, they are not. When I know, I know (in a split-second, gut-instinct, intuitive-kind-of-way) because I know what is best for me; sometimes without even being consciously aware of it. And though I am an emotional creature, I am also equal parts logical and analytical. I never make a decision without thinking it thoroughly through (Hermoine Granger style, naturally).

Though we made the decision to move in March (2015), and peaced-out from Michigan three months later at the end of June, this decision has been three years in the making; when we rented a house on Folly Beach during spring break of 2012. I knew that week Charleston was where I needed to be; the place where I would feel the best and be the best I could be. I knew that was where my best life was at.

So, yes, we have moved around a lot (this is our sixth place in five cities, four states, and that doesn’t even begin to include all the moving I’ve done as a child—more on that here). And yes, I could explain to you all the reasons why moving to Charleston is a good idea. But I won’t because I don’t have to justify my decisions to anyone (the best part about being an adult, by far, is that you get to be a total asshole and not apologize for it). I’ll just say that we love it here and there’s palm trees and sunshine and the ocean and Folly Beach and sea salt air and Spanish moss hanging from gnarly live oak trees. Just take a quick peek at my Instagram & you’ll see what I’m talking about.

It’s a place steeped in old Southern tradition; you can feel it everywhere in the city, from the cobblestone streets to the wrought-iron curling gates to the carriage houses. It’s a place where in the middle of March you can eat hush puppies and drink sweet tea on a rooftop deck overlooking the port where cruise ships dock. It’s a place where you can stumble upon the alley where they stable the carriage horses on your way to dinner. It’s a place that feels vibrant and slow and mysterious and magical and real, all at the same time. It’s a city that embraces you fully, surrounds you, and lives in your veins.

It’s also a place located along US-17, the highway that runs the length of the Atlantic from Virginia down into Florida. At anytime, I can hop in my car and head south down US-17 and in two hours be in Savannah, Georgia sitting on a balcony on River Street, overlooking the Savannah River as I drink my beverage of choice, whilst listening to a guitar-strumming, microphone-crooning musician sing a haunted lullaby.

And the people here. Honestly, world-class. They’re a mix-match of surfer-hippies, Old Wealth (we’re talking plantation-slavery-kind-of-old-money), new money, the Gullah population, the large proportion of people who’re here from out of state (mostly Ohio and Michigan, from what I’ve gathered), artists, businessmen, academics, historians, sailors, military, you name it. And the thing is, they actually care about each other; they aren’t afraid to reach across the fence and help their neighbors. Oh, and let’s not forget the manners: you learn how to say “Yes, Ma’am” and “No, Sir” real damn fast down here.

But most importantly, it’s a city where I feel at home. And, most importantly, a place where I feel alive.

And while all these things make me fall in love with this city more everyday (there’s nothing like crossing over a bridge on your way to an appointment and seeing the expanse of marsh and the intercostal stretch out beneath you), I miss home terribly. Some days, more than I can even admit to myself. It’s a deep sadness that I know will not be easily erased or reconciled, but nor do I want it to be. That ache for family and friends and familiarity is something I will always carry inside of me.

Because, I now know, that I exist in both places; my feet are planted in two worlds. And that’s okay. I’m tired of fighting it, to be honest.

That just means I’ll have to buy some more plane tickets and fly to that glorious city I will always call home: Detroit. Motor City, baby.

 Until then, I’ll be here…

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Folly life. 

 

 

 

 

Until next time, farewell, & may your life never cease to be filled with wonder and curiosity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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