Charlotte, North Carolina, U.S.A. – Every morning before school, I go through the same routine. I wake up at 5:45 a.m. and brush my teeth and shower. At 6 I do my skin care and at 6:05 change. I’m doing my makeup at 6:10 and my hair at 6:20.
At 6:35 a.m., it’s time to find my socks, but not just any socks. They have to match. Same brand, same packaging, same feel, same fit. By now, it is already 6:40 a.m. and I have to leave in five minutes, but I still don’t have my socks.
Listen to the author read this article:
I search through my dresser and rake through the pile of clothes on my floor. I find half a pair and it’s 6:42. I go into my mom’s room and dig through the heap of laundry. Nothing. It’s 6:44.
I rush to the laundry room and rifle through the dryer and by then it’s 6:46.
Despite living in this house almost my entire life, despite knowing exactly where my socks are, I always end up feeling like I’m searching in the dark.
In a way, that is how I feel about Charlotte, my hometown. Even though I have lived here my entire life, explored its busy streets, watched shopping centers emerge from nothing, and seen once-flat lands transform into bustling neighborhoods, I do not truly know the city.
I should know where to go, where to find things, where I fit.
But instead, I find myself digging through parts of Charlotte I have passed several times before: NoDa, Optimist Hall and Lake Norman are just some of the places others discovered long before I even knew they existed.
Like a sock that slips behind a dryer, these places were always there – just out of reach, in plain sight. I was not blind to Charlotte, but I was not truly seeing it, either.
My life has always been folded into routine: school, home, rehearsal, homework, repeat. In that pattern, I never made space to explore the places that give this city shape. Everyone else seemed to have found their pair and I was still digging.
Sometimes it feels like Charlotte moves without me. People talk about their favorite cafes tucked behind buildings I have never even heard of, or post snapshots of murals I have never passed. I nod along, pretending I have been there as well, but the truth is, I am always a step behind.
I don’t know the shortcuts, the secret spots, the true hidden gems that make Charlotte feel like home to others. I only know the route from home to school, the parking lot during rehearsal, and the quiet aisles of a Haris Teeter store at 8 p.m. The rest blurs together – familiar names, but unfamiliar places.
Maybe I haven’t found a matching pair yet. Maybe I’m still searching through the laundry room, hopefully something familiar finally fits.
But I keep looking. I still pass streets I can’t name and places I’ve never been in. I still scroll through pictures of places I’ve never seen inside a city I’ve always lived in.
And maybe that’s okay. Some mornings I’ll keep running late. Some socks will stay missing. But maybe, with time, I’ll find the other half. Tucked somewhere unexpected, waiting to be found.
Rithika Saravanan is a Junior Reporter with Youth Journalism International.
