Wilmington

Growing up, Wilmington was Front Street. It was, “Be careful walking through the neighborhoods” and a poisonous water supply and an hour-long drive to Saturday swim practice. The YMCA had diving blocks and I hated diving. It was my first date at 17, which I thought was much too late. Wilmington was the interstate and the movie theater. I didn’t really care too much.

She had mercy on me amid my prejudice and took me in and became my home. At 23 years old, Wilmington has become the giant window at Bespoke where I studied in college. It’s the broken sidewalks and pockets between tree branches that host bougainvillea. It’s the locally owned book store where I can find short stories and old friends. It’s Dock Street where I can buy coffee beans and take a pensive walk. It’s Monday morning breakfast with my kind friends who love me well. It’s where I fell in love, and it’s still Front Street— but it’s Front Street where I got married. I wouldn’t call Wilmington a romantic, but I’d say she loves me.

View from inside a coffee shop looking out onto a street. The window has "COFFEE" sign reversed. Outside, buildings, street signs, and a traffic light are visible. The sky is clear and blue.
View of treetops with pink flowers against a blue sky
Assorted books displayed on a wooden table
Pour-over coffee being brewed with a glass carafe and wooden stand on a countertop.
Coffee grinder next to brown paper bags on a wooden counter in a storage area.
Two people clinking decorative coffee mugs in a kitchen setting, with steam rising from the mugs and flowers on the table.
Black and white portrait of a person wearing glasses and a sweater, standing outdoors in front of a brick building with windows.
River landscape with bridge railings and distant town view, featuring church steeples and greenery under a cloudy sky.