What We Remember, What We Forget
“The grass is always greener after you’re gone.” –Davio Bianco
My son Davio & Co. just moved here from Miami. Davio had only lived in South Florida a couple years and was glad to say adios to it. His step-daughter Jocelyn had lived there all her 11 years and was eager to vamos. His fiancee Aura had lived there 15 years and while she was more than ready for a change in venue, from time to time she understandably waxes nostalgic about the old stomping ground.
The other day, a combination of homesickness, hassles of relocation and a general feeling of disorientation got to her. “Miami was my life…” she remarked with the Little Lost Puppy look. Davio reminded her of why she decided to leave: the outrageous cost of housing and groceries, the traffic gridlock that makes a 5-minute jaunt to the local supermarket take an hour, the one-pileup-per-minute madness of I-95, the rude people, the unsafe streets, the polluted air, the oppressive heat and humidity, her deadend job, the dearth of good employment opportunities for ambitious people and the reality that Miami is in no way a family-friendly environment.
Places always seem so much better in retrospect. I should know — I’ve moved on an average of every 2 years for the last 3 decades. I lived on the central coast of CA and pine away for Big Sur and the spectacular scenery, forgetting how violently allergic I was to everything that grew there. I miss the crisp autumns in New Hampshire with its brilliant foliage, neon blue skies and aphrodisiacal scent of apples, pine forest and wood fires. I have to be reminded about the 30-below zero winters, the annual snowfall which exceeded the height of our roof and frostbitten toes and fingers. I lived in NYC and remember only the glitz of 5-star dining, Fifth Avenue shopping and cosmopolitan culture. I’ve conveniently managed to expunge from my mind the need to have 3 police locks and 2 deadbolts on my apartment door and the many times I lost my cash to muggers or got flashed by perverts wearing black raincoats and nothing else. I often remark how I want to return to New Orleans, ignoring the fact that more Katrinas are a sad inevitability.
My grandmother always said, “You take your good times with you wherever you go.” Hey, if I can have fun in my little town of Hog Wallow NC, I can have fun anywhere.
–phoebe kate