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The salty air swirls around me as the lukewarm Atlantic waves lap at my feet on the shore. The car sits waiting a few yards away, allowing me one last moment in this beach paradise. I finally turn away from the disappearing sun on the smearing horizon and squeeze into my window seat in our minivan. My friends and I laugh and share our magnificent plans of what we’ll do when we come back here, while the parents chuckle at us from the front seat. The highway is an endless stretch of black, seemingly leading to nowhere, and all of them eventually nod off to sleep. But I love the dark road that becomes one with the night sky and the string of streetlights that are few and far between. The August air seeps through a crack in the window, filling my nostrils with the scent of freshly cut grass. And despite the nothingness that surrounds us, I’ve never experienced a moment more beautiful than in that silent car with my dearest friends.
Hartsville, South Carolina sits atop a flat, dry plain and is barely more than just an exit off the highway. Its borders do not extend far into the vast emptiness surrounding the town, resulting in a cozy but adequately comfortable setting. Downtown consists of two main streets that house shops, a couple of restaurants, and the YMCA. The only chain restaurant to ever reach its secluded location, an Applebee’s, sits on the corner with a continually full parking lot. The town’s intertwined roads are long, with few pieces of scenery along them apart from old oak trees and the blindingly blue Carolina sky. It was my first home, and my small town upbringing has undoubtedly made me who I am today.
Hartsville’s Southern charm is evident in all of its residents, who radiate the laid back mentality of the South. No one has anywhere important to be, and life seems to center around the golf course, the pool, and the homes of our friends. As I’ve grown up, I’ve realized that I am capable of finding that same simplicity no matter where I am in the world; the South is in my blood.
Now, I sit beside a widow gazing out at the grayness around me, with streets occupied by rows of houses and apartment buildings. It took some getting used to, but Seattle eventually became my home, too. I’ve made friends from all over the globe and been exposed to so many more experiences than Hartsville ever could have offered me. But my childhood in South Carolina was vital to my acceptance of a big city. Here, hundreds of people pass you walking down the street, the city buses are full to the brim, and no one knows one another, or makes any attempts to. But that is merely what’s happening on the surface. Even in an urban center I have found my Hartsville, filling my life with genuine friends, time to slow down, and even a sweet tea every now and then.
I often miss those empty city streets and the sun-bleached storefronts. I miss the green golf course, the Waffle House, and the town school. Mostly, however, I miss the people there, because they are undoubtedly the town’s most memorable feature. Hartsville not only introduced me to the most genuinely warm and easygoing community but also gave me the skills necessary to seek out those qualities in others. Even thousands of miles away, with the ice-cold waves of the Pacific Ocean rolling over my feet, I have managed to find Southern hospitality, and I know that my small town exists in some form, no matter how large the city.