All good things come to an end. But, sometimes only to make way for great things. I miss you Atlanta friends and family. I think about you often as I pave my way along new terrain.

I am thankful for the southern heat. My introduction to Indian food. My amazingly strenuous graduate school education that re-taught me suffering is often worth it. My intense teaching experience at Eaton Academy. Juggling five separate courses was a serious hazing.

I am thankful for twelve years spent with my brother and his adorable family. For the long walks around the Highlands. For my break-in experiences with getting laid off, meeting horrible men, living in boxcar size apartments, and taking care of myself in a strange city.

I have enormous, humble gratitude to fate. The gods telephoned me in Seattle, hinting I'd find BIG love in the city with the most traveled airport. Thus, I hitched my way across country, just in time to meet him. OK. Not exactly. But, I still made it to ATL within six months of my husband (a total stranger back then). Thank you gods.

Thank you, Atlanta, for teaching me I would rather live up north after all, despite my lifelong fantasy that the south is my home. You are more of a siren for me, in truth. (No offense). I get caught up in the mossy trees and ghost stories. In the sweet tea and homemade grits. No one provided me with wax in the ears, however, and for that, I am relieved.

I picked up a part of myself that had stayed behind in my journey out west years ago. Rather, I think she grew up a bit. She idealizes life a bit less. She lives more in real-time than in the past. She also carries a hefty-size pocketful of kryptonite with her now.

Thank you, Atlanta. Thank you, South. You house some beautiful childhood memories and some even more tree-mossy adulthood memories. I am still in love with you, but you were my childhood sweetheart. And that love is a bit hollow, fully of honey, when I need real sustenance now.