Describe Your Surroundings

A woman is walking along the side of the road, carrying bags of groceries in each hand. Her age is difficult to guess; her body is that of a woman in her early thirties but years of North Carolina sunshine and smoking several packs a day have toughened and wrinkled her skin. She wears tank tops, very short shorts, and an embattled expression. We drive past her.

The road travels between family farms and residential neighborhoods where the paint on many of the houses is peeling. Children's toys are strewn all over porches. Front yards bear signs that announce the love Jesus feels for each passerby. Weeds push their way through the cracks in the sidewalk. A dog runs loose. It approaches the road, we slow down, it turns away and runs the other direction.

We turn a corner and onto a street lined with grand Victorian houses in immaculate condition. SUVs fill the driveways. Tall trees arch elegantly over the street. A man is jogging down the sidewalk.

At the intersection, we roach the downtown. The old courthouse looks down at us with dignity. Ahead lies a main street that seems to have been preserved in time for decades. Two blocks of store fronts contain gift shops, handcrafted goods, restaurants and cafes. We find a place to park and enter a coffee shop.

A tall woman with tattoos and a drawn out expression of resignation takes my order of coffee and a Reuben sandwich. I look across the room at the other patrons, who are all absorbed in their phones and laptops. "So," I say to my companions, "This is Concord. I guess we have arrived."