Why would someone call this desert city home?
After all, it’s not the safest place, it’s not the cleanest area amongst other cities near you, it’s not the most enjoyable city to be at and it’s one that lacks personality at first glance.
Perris, California is an uncommon area where most people will question to ask if this city is on the south side of LA due to some of the stories I share with others. It’s intimidating, there’s violence on every corner, drug dealers spotted in alleys and teenagers are constantly scheduling unexpected fights at the back of the McDonald’s building. On cool nights I’ll pop open my window to get in the fresh breeze of the night but the street noises are buzzing through my silenced room. I’ll hear car alarms, loud macho like laughter, the engine of a car trying to beat the other in a race of who’s car won’t burn out first, and on occasions some helicopters on the search for common delinquents on the run. These aren’t seen as out of place to me. What is out of place to me is when a person from a different city will react differently towards these “common” street sounds. It’s difficult for me to move on from this city and detach myself from the small secrets it holds. From meeting up with friends down at the local yogurt shop, walking to IHOP at late hours of the night risking ourselves a bit but then being able to share the mouthful of inside jokes that was created within those moments or even walking across the street to my aunt’s house and being able to relax with a paleta I bought with a flimsy dollar paired with fifty cents. I guess in a sense, the people I’ve met in perris made perris home. If I would’ve never came in contact with these people whom I now call my friends, if my family hadn’t all moved down here then this would not be home. This city holds many secrets and many hidden gems such as every other place out there in the world, but the people you meet can make anywhere home.
Perris is my home.