Nostalgia Isn't What it Used to Be*

Since leaving the warm and pillowy bosom of the tiny mountain town where I went to college, I've been looking for a similar community in Charlotte, NC.

I realize that Boone, home of Appalachian State University, basically exists in a bubble. Not just any bubble, a Cinderella, “a dream is a wish your heart makes,” bubble, tinged pink and reflecting progressive politics, community gardens, and social consciousness. It was a wonderful place to get an education.

Today I drove out of my way to stop at a gas station near my old house. Their gas prices are usually a few cents higher than a more convenient location, but I always patronize this store. I got gas and headed in to buy a Redbull to get me pumped to sell cell phones all day. I always go in and buy something, even just a diet coke, because I so enjoy the proprietors. Its owned by a middle eastern family. The patriarch is a tiny and ancient seeming man whose beard and hair are the exact same length and color. Its not much more than stubble, a mix of white and grey. He has a scratchy voice and always looks at me disapprovingly if I buy cigarettes. He is usually working with another, younger man, much taller but equally wiry.

A woman, his daughter I believe, works during the day. She looks much younger than her age, and she is pretty, with huge brown eyes, and pink round cheeks. She is always smiling and sighing, making jokes about her children. Her English is perfect, with a charming accent. 

The younger man came into the AT&T store where I work a few weeks ago. He doesn't speak much English, but we recognized each other and both laughed at the role reversal. It felt very strange to see him in a different setting.

At ASU, it was so easy to get involved. Being a student meant that there were endless clubs or groups to join. Taking classes, especially classes in your major, required interaction with other people who shared your interests. There was no excuse to be bored or lazy, and alone time was something to schedule, not the norm.

I frequent a neighborhood watering hole that is part remodeled gas station, part deli, and part back alley for drinking. They have an oddly fantastic wine selection and you can get bottles for sane prices. The staff is an interesting ensemble but all are friendly and more than willing to recommend a great bottle or fancy microbrew. They are a pierced, tattooed bunch, dressed mostly in black, but I don't feel like an outsider, even though I'm a clean slate—my only piercings are in my ears-- and am usually wearing a brightly colored sundress.

I've been feeling lonely lately. I have a few, dear, friends in this town, but its not the same. I am sure that part of my nostalgia has to do with getting older. I turn 27 in a few months. I spend much more time at home with my (absurdly cute) dog, and my (ridiculously adorable) boyfriend. Its not a bad thing, its just different. Its quieter. But its OK. And I'm creating my community in Charlotte, slow and steady. I've got a favorite gas station, bar, coffee shop, breakfast place, park, video store, and I've joined Charlottes chapter of the National Organization for Women.

I feel better just reading that list.

*Lyric from a great song by by Sam Phillips called Taking Pictures.