Salisbury, MD

 I sit in the passenger seat of my mom’s new car, thumping my fingers on my knee to my latest obsession, 'Under the Bridge' by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. My mom sings along as we drive east on 50, heading for the place I’ll call home for the next 2 to 3 years. We pass empty fields, endless trees, and small towns dotted along the road. Nothing eye-opening, nothing unique, just another drive to another destination.

I should be more excited, thrilled even, that I’ve found the place meant to be my home for the next few years. But I don’t feel it yet, not truly. The reality hasn’t quite set in as we pull into downtown Salisbury, MD, 20 miles from Ocean City, 75 miles from Annapolis, and 132 miles from Norfolk.


I look out at the small strip of local businesses that make up the town and sigh, reminding myself that this is the start of my career in broadcasting. The thing I’ve wanted since sophomore year has finally come true, and yet all I feel is numbness.


My mom and I start ticking off the apartments we’re driving past to see if any could be the right fit for a young woman living on her own. All within a ten-minute drive of each other. The first three excite me, newer, modern, well-kept places. The Reserve at Parsons Lake stays imprinted in my mind as we drive down the long, winding driveway to beautiful, rustic apartments nestled by a lake and surrounded by trees. It feels like its own little world, a hideaway from everything else.


I picture myself there, a place to retreat when I’m not working on TV. Kids riding bikes on the sidewalks, young couples moving into second-floor apartments, an elderly woman walking her tiny dog, looking as if the wind might carry her away any moment. I’m immediately charmed, drawn in by the hidden beauty of this place. This could be my place, my sanctuary.


But as we move on to the next five apartments, disappointment settles in my chest. The options grow fewer and less appealing, each one less suitable for a young woman living alone. Places I had hoped would be great are filled with trash, broken blinds, and forgotten fixes. I immediately scratch them off my list. How could a home look so sad? We keep going, and I almost want to give up. My heart is still set on The Reserve, and now my mind is following suit, thinking about locking in a place as soon as possible. 


I want the Salisbury that excites me, the one that sparks hope and dreams for my future career. I don’t want the one that makes me count down the days until I’m free. I want to feel the excitement bubbling in my chest as I grow into the reporter I’ve always wanted to become, to feel like I’m doing something meaningful for the world.


For that, I need a home, a place where I can feel safe, supported, and free to let my creativity flow. By the time we’re driving home, I’m calling Parsons with every intention of making it my home within the next month. Because Salisbury is my new home, and it’s time I start welcoming it with open arms.

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