the suburbs (pt. 7)

half light i // arcade fire, half light ii (no celebration) // arcade fire

when i was nine years old, my parents told my brother and me that we were moving. they told us we’d be leaving our little right-side duplex house with our walls covered in crayon drawings and moving somewhere nicer.

i was more than ecstatic. my brother was less than thrilled.

i remember when we were driving around looking at houses that could potentially become our home. there were houses right next to highways where crickets chirped in broad daylight. there was one house that sat on top of a lake where all of the rooms could only be entered from the wooden walkway that wrapped around the exterior of the house.

but we ended up settling into a relatively new subdivision right next to the town square in hernando, mississippi. i could see the town track and field park from the driveway, and every house had a tree in its front yard.

in this new house in this new town, i used to be so excited for everything to be new. i was excited for my new school and my new friends and finally having the room to be a kid.

and everything did feel new. at first. but i never had the room to be a kid. my new friends were gone as soon as they’d been made, and my new school quickly became another creaky cog in the suburban machine.

i wanted to be able to actually run around and be free and see my town when the only lights are streetlights, the way i never could in my old town. but i wasn’t even allowed to walk around my neighborhood after school by myself. this town that i’d thought would be the place i could finally branch out was rapidly become that town that would leave in in the same pot forever.

the novelty of newness had faded, and all i wanted was to make my home feel welcoming again.

this past summer was the first time in my life i could finally explore my town when it’s illuminated only by streetlights. i could actually drive around town with the windows down and swing in the park when it’s dark out.

everything felt so new, and it was the first time since we’d moved that i’d felt that same excitement for the new.

before summer, i thought i’d never want to leave brookhaven. i thought going back to my roots, even just for two days every two weeks, would be the torture of tearing my fresh growth from its new soil

now, i long for the weekends i can replant my feet in the old soil.

every time i see that welcome sign, the streets feel a little newer than they did before.

Author: Madison Cox

madison: known for being very loud and very short and also a little sad. finally embraced her inner hipster. typically can be found listening to music or writing something. very fond of sweaters, hugs, and chucks. thinks capital letters are overrated. enjoys typing like a child but speaking like an adult. really wants to write books one day. View all posts by Madison Cox