There Are No Sidewalks in Charles County

I never thought I'd be posting an essay(well it wasn't officially assigned as an essay, but I felt compelled to...) as a blog post, but I really liked this assignment. I think anyone who has spent years in a suburban town or Charles County can really appreciate it.

Assignment:
Write about your town and experiences here in Charles County from a Realist's point of view. Include details about setting, the people, the values, and the day-to-day life. Do not forget to include those elements that are particularly important to realists.

There Are No Sidewalks in Charles County

My second cousin’s fiancée told me that when I’m an adult, but not ready for a family, I should live in the city. We were walking through D.C. that night, celebrating my cousin’s birthday. I took in the pedestrian friendly city, parallel parking spaces, lamp posts, tall town houses, and restaurants awaiting late night arrivals. “I could get used to this,” I thought, walking several blocks to a local bakery, “I wouldn’t mind walking.” But then I felt my learners’ permit in my pocket, remembering there are no sidewalks in Charles County.

Well, there are sidewalks – they’re just hidden, deep in the complex neighborhoods, where families live. Where most parents commute to the city, boarding the quiet commuter buses full of strangers before the sun rises. Where there are children, who rise a few hours later, waiting for a big yellow bus filled with friendly chatter. After school is over, available parents drop their kids off to soccer practice, Girl Scouts, youth orchestra, or the many activities this bustling community offers. You could grow up in this town, cycling through all the grade systems, moving up to better housing, passing by all the big box retailers. I did.


Retail is slow during the day, a few stragglers here and there. But on the weekends, 228 is filled with teenagers heading towards their part time jobs, people with grocery lists in mind, and shoppers trying to make the 1 p.m. sale at Macy’s. The mall was built on a swamp, as the Waldorf Marketplace took the place of trees. I remember, because I’ve lived here all my life. I remember when traffic wasn’t so congested, when Circuit City was still in business, and the mall was nothing pretty to look at. But Waldorf continues to reconfigure its’ image, appealing to its ever growing population of suburbians.

Some may complain about the lack of culture, but this is no place for an art gallery or an indie music scene. You can, however, befriend another family and foster a relationship for years, or watch it fade away. You can have an adventure in a neighbor’s backyard, you can relax on your front porch or backyard deck.

The weight of my life is tied down in this urban sprawl, owning the precious memories I have. I don’t resent it, though. I imagine I’ll move out of this town when I leave for college, get a job, and live my life in the city. I’ll get tired of walking everywhere, a ring will be placed on my left hand, and I’ll opt to move some place “slower” – a place with all of my needs, but all of my wants outside its borders.

The streets of Charles County may be quiet by 10, but the repeated life cycles move faster than the D.C. metro rails.