why my permanent address will always be North Carolina

This is a love letter to my home state, in response to the rallying cry of my dear friend and fellow North Carolinian Virginia Ingram.

I’m a long way away from home.

Home is The Great State of North Carolina.

A long way away is Cape Town, South Africa. (That’s where I live right now.)

But not a day goes by when I don’t think about North Carolina. And lately, the news from home is startling, disappointing, frustrating. My state, my beloved state, is making national headlines for all the wrong reasons.

The New York Times recently wrote an op-ed about my state. They called it “The Decline of North Carolina.” That headline. Oh, it hurts. My North Carolina friends were circulating the op-ed with dismay. We all cringed collectively, because the worst part is: it’s all true.

But you know what?

It’s not the whole story.

There are more sides to North Carolina. And even though I’m unhappy about what’s happening in North Carolina and can point to others who feel the same way, I’m not going to dive into a heated political debate here. Not today. If you want to know what liberals and conservatives, both inside and outside of North Carolina, are arguing about, head over to the comments sections of the op-ed I mentioned.

Because I don’t want to debate and dismay today.

Today, I just want to remember why I love North Carolina. I want to tell you a story about my home state — a different kind of story than the one we’ve been reading in the papers.This is a story about family, loyalty, kindness, and the pull this place has on me.

First, my family. We don’t have a long and storied heritage in North Carolina. Our story is only a few decades old. We’re transplants — my dad is a Chicago boy, and my mom had at least a dozen addresses growing up.

But none of that matters, because North Carolina will adopt you and take you in, love you and welcome you.Even when you leave, it longs for your return — like a mother who secretly hopes her children will move back home one day. And, out of a sense of loyalty and love, you’ll eventually make your way back to her. Because how can you stay away?

My mom and dad started their lives together in North Carolina. My dad was in medical school, and they lived in a tiny apartment on North Street, near campus. They fell in love with Chapel Hill’s mix of Southern kindness and progressive outlook. And that was the beginning.

My dad was assigned to a residency in Missouri, but when he was done, they returned to North Carolina with me in tow and my brother on the way. My dad signed up to be the town doctor in a small, rural town in Anson County. I grew up with pine needles all over the front yard and the smell of honeysuckle in early summer. Sometimes, my dad was paid for his services with a basket of corn or bags of string beans, which we snapped outside on our sunny stoop.

My family left North Carolina for a second act in the Midwest. But every summer, we made the steamy, 22-hour trek in our Dodge Chrysler minivan for a week at the beach. And we waited for that moment — that moment when we crossed the state line surrounded by lovely, blue-tinged mountains. Sometimes, feeling sentimental, we’d put in the James Taylor tape to play “Carolina in my Mind,” just as we crossed over the line. It was a kind of anthem to announce that we’d made our return. As if to say: Hello again, you gorgeous girl. How we missed you.

On that summer trip, we’d swing by Charlotte to pick up my grandmother, and then make our way to Holden Beach,where we’d rented a house for a week. And when we finally crossed the bridge over the Intracoastal Waterway and saw the ocean gleaming in front of us,we all breathed a collective sigh of relief. For having this long trip behind us. For finally arriving. For a week of sunshine and ocean ahead. My dad was the first one in the water, with us kids following close behind — before suitcases were even unpacked, before bedrooms were even chosen, we were swimming in warm Atlantic waters.

Eventually, my parents couldn’t take it anymore — landlocked in the Midwest, hundreds of miles from home. I imagine there was a homing signal. North Carolina whispering in the ear, “You can always come home.” So, after ten years in the Midwest, they jumped at the chance to move back. And they’ve been there ever since. As for me, I graduated college and left for Washinton D.C. But when that flinty, frenetic city lost its luster for me, I knew there was only one place to go.

And so, North Carolina became the place for my own beginning. This place stamped my marriage certificate, gave me my first house, welcomed my two daughters, and gave me leaps and bounds in my career. It gave me countless weekends at the beach, to relish and remember all those summers growing up. It consoled me with sunshine and blue skies, even in winter. It offered me a dear circle of friends and the very deep sense of belonging we all hope for in our lives.

North Carolina imparted in me the importance of supporting and loving your community. Honoring our farmers by putting cash in their hard-working hands at the Saturday farmers market. Acting up as a community and protesting together when there’s intolerance like Amendment One. Supporting the businesses working to make a go of it in downtowns that have long been abandoned.

North Carolina also covered me with kindness. On a daily basis, there were friendly gestures and conversations with strangers — in the line for coffee, on a walk through my neighborhood, in the aisles of the grocery store. Neighbors were exceptionally generous when both our babies arrived, showering us with presents, encouragement and home-cooked meals. And every lady at the post office, the grocery store, and even the DMV who called me “Honey” made me feel like I had extra grandmothers all over the place.

So. When my time in Cape Town is done, I promise you’ll find me back in North Carolina. Even now, she keeps whispering in my ear — reminding me “You can always come home.”

I’ll answer the call one day. And when I do, I know exactly what I’ll say: Hello again, you gorgeous girl. How we missed you.

Here a few more love letters to North Carolina. If you love this place as much as we do, please share your story with us.

North Carolina, I wish I knew how to quit you by Ileana Rodriguez

I like calling North Carolina home… by Geoff Gann

Home at Last by Angela Salamanca

Please don’t give up on North Carolina by Virginia Ingram