#also I am aware that suburbia isn't exactly... value neutral

[unravelingwires]

Suburbanized

“Give me 10 minutes.” I grabbed my phone and walked out the doors of the Steak and Shake. My mom, used to this kind of behavior, made eye contact to acknowledge but didn’t say anything.

Actually, considering my mom’s absentmindedness, she might not have registered what I said. Well, I had my phone if she noticed my absence and had a heart attack.

It was absurdly warm for New Jersey in December, making the air a pleasant and sharp cool instead of a hurts-to-breathe cold. The parking lot was empty, and it was ringed by grass and scraggly trees. To the right, the pavement opened up to an undeveloped field which was almost certainly tiny, but so long as I didn’t investigate further, I could pretend it led to grand adventures. I sat down on one of those concrete walls that didn’t reach my waist, closing my eyes and tipping my head back.

The beautiful, horrific truth about the US was that when you boiled it down, it all felt the same. There were differences from coast to coast. We were at Steak and Shake because I couldn’t find a good veggie burger at college, which was funny, because it was California. Those differences were immaterial when compared to the difference between the US and any other country. Assam was cold in a way that I didn’t associate with India, but it was still tan and toilet paper-less. Chennai was as dusty, busy, and family-filled as always. Then, I came to New Jersey, and it wasn’t home, but the parking lot was filled with cool colors and the trees were straggly instead of nonexistent or huge. The grass was green-and-brown instead of just brown, and the burger I’d eat in a few minutes would make my entire year.

Most importantly, I was allowed to wander around aimlessly outside, as I was in California, St. Louis, and New York. I didn’t have to stay within ten feet of a family member at all times to avoid human trafficking and the endless logistical complications from a lack of cell service.

This is what I loved about being an adult. If I was jittery with my family, I was allowed to leave: I had officially outgrown mom-worries about kidnappers. I knew most people considered freedom much riskier than that– and at college, I could get up to more than wandering around a parking lot– but with my family, being able to leave was enough. It wasn’t perfect. Eventually I’d have to go back to India, or, hell, a city at night, as I have yet to escape my sex. But it was enough, for now.