Here, There’s No Need to Escape

Before I ever dreamed of moving to Charleston, this city was my escape. During my college years, I would make the drive south to visit my brother at the College of Charleston. The streets surrounding the campus were always ripe with fresh faces, fresh party invitations, fresh conversations, freshly tapped beer, the smoky kiss of a stranger, the hope of a fresh start. At least for a weekend.

The curve of the Battery sidewalk always beckoned, unwinding as if in wait for my running shoes to hit and clip the concrete.

The splash of the fountain in Marion Square was like music, and sprawling in the grass in the sun with other students was like the best version of reality – a reminder that your greatest goal on a Saturday can be as simple as, “relax.”

Everything I craved was in walking distance, from the eggs at Hominy Grill, to the boisterous band at Midtown Bar, to the expanse of sky above The Rooftop at The Vendue Inn.

ViewFromVendue

Every place I went was an escape. Charleston makes escaping easy for outsiders – it’s is like the happy-go-lucky, invites-everyone-to-the-party personality of college towns.

And it wasn’t until I moved to Charleston for a summer internship that I realized I didn’t have to treat this place as a getaway route anymore. I didn’t have to be a visitor. I could call this place home, my own.

Sunset

Here, I realized there was nothing to escape. I realized there’s no reason to run. Unless you’re charging straight for the sea and the waves, their crash and their foam, their tug at your toes and their fizzle at your ankles.

Here, you are home.

One thought on “Here, There’s No Need to Escape

  1. HI! I once lived in Charleston. Actually, I lived on James Island first, then downtown Charleston in a great little carriage house on Tradd Street, and finally, in a quiet funky little house West of the Ashley. I wrote a piece while there about the wonder of Charleston…the wonder that sparks from skittering hermit crabs, walks I took on cool gritty sand down by the old Atlantic House, jutting out into the salty waves, the wonder I experienced riding my blue bike with orange handlebars to my job as an R.N. at Roper Hospital (not including the infamous tumble I took one early morning, when my front wheel caught on a grate and I was tossed, willy nilly, straight onto the street…pride wounded, knees scraped and bruised). I was so caught up in the wonder of walking from my car to my nurse’s station when I worked at the Palmetto Lowcountry Behavioral Center, I remember seeing tiny crabs scuttle along the walkway and I literally laughed out loud with the wonder of that sight. So your story really resonated with me and I liked so much the way it made me feel I had, even for one brief moment, come home to my beloved Charleston again. Thank you for this story!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *