You’ve lived in your neighborhood 1, 5, 10, 50 years. You know the streets well. Bodegas might change ownership, the restaurant on the corner is always under new management, but everything is essentially static. And then.
It’s a slow change. Your neighbors’ faces look different. Who are you exchanging pleasantries with? Just keep your head down and lift your arm, maintain the status quo.
The neighborhood sounds different. The noises creep into your ears reluctantly, as if they don’t want to be heard. Don’t hear the change.
The vacant lot is now a community garden. Everyone’s drinking Fiji water. You see a puppy that isn’t part pit bull. The trains run on time. A man is eating a salad.
Here it is. Here you are. The gentrification is at hand.