Survival of the Fittest

Urban neighborhoods are not the only areas facing gentrification. The suburbs are too. Mortgages rise, people leave, someone gets deported. The family next door disappears, and the new neighbors replace the plain burgundy entrance with a mahogany double door frame. Contractors build expensive high rise apartments near the Metro for the carefree 20-somethings that can afford it. The local Shoppers becomes Whole Foods.  Every inch of green grass will be covered with another townhouse, condo, plaza, or hotel. People who cannot afford the skyrocketing cost of living are not the only ones forced to leave, the creatures of the forest are too.

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A friend and I are walking back from the 7-Eleven, a classic unit of the neighborhood. The day is warm, and I am craving chocolate covered almonds. We decide to walk the short distance to the corner store instead of calling an Uber so that we can save some money and get a little vitamin D. We are both lacking because we are products of the convenience generation. Why go shopping when you can have a style subscription box like Stitch Fix or Thread-Up sent to your doorstep? The hungry millennial need not worry about assembling a meal completely from scratch because he can just dial an Uber Eats and have his dinner delivered in a matter of minutes. Let’s not get started on the robot vacuum, a far cry from the twig broom of our forefathers.

 We are walking back to our neighborhood when I decide I want to go on an adventure. A forest trail emerges next to the strip of apartments nearby-- a block away from our street. As we follow our curiosity into the woods, we spot a deer charging forward, its antlers bulldozing the air as it gallops in our direction. We don’t know if the deer is running from something or targeting us. All we know is that by walking into the trail, we have invaded its territory. I don’t get any words out before I start running, my friend trailing my heels until we reach my doorstep, flustered and out of breath, vowing never to go back into the woods. 

“That was a close call,” I say, trying to gulp down my now lukewarm water and eat my melting almonds as we sit on the porch still checking to make sure we are not being followed by any more animals.

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As the car rolls by, we see black and yellow street signs telling us to beware of wild deer. With all this construction happening, these animals have nowhere to hide. They are stranded.  It is not uncommon to find a groundhog ravaging an old lady’s backyard tomato garden or to find a deer galloping across the road getting caught off guard in a BMW’s headlights.  Often, in an attempt to swerve these deer, many accidents occur. People run into poles, knocking out the electricity, or slam into fences, with fatal or near-fatal consequences. 

In suburbia, it is the survival of the fittest. Some animals become roadkill, their fur and feathers smeared with blood on the asphalt. Some become stealthy foragers and guard what’s left of their home. I suppose in the suburbs, humans strive to survive too. To do more than survive, to succeed-- to achieve that American Dream.

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I am sautéing a sauce for baked tilapia when the lights flicker off. The stove tops lose their red glow, the TV goes mute, and  darkness envelopes us. There was no natural disaster happening to warrant this sudden power outage. Someone more than likely ran into a pole, or a form of construction was happening. When your entire household operates on electricity, you are basically left to the elements. At that moment, I thought about getting a generator like my friends across the equator.