The time's here: after four years in Atlanta, I'm finally relocating to NYC. I know quite a few friends were surprised, and to be honest, so am I. This change is one that was a distant dream; I'd given myself two years or so to make the biggest jump of my life. But an exciting personal opportunity presented itself, and I said what I do often in situations like this: "why not?" My mother told me when I was young that she was born on a bus stop. Anxious to meet the world, or give my young grandmother a near heart attack, she came into the world whilst on en route elsewhere. It's an anecdote that has become the story of my own life, because I've always felt that urge to remain in motion as well. There's this driving whisper that demands of me, "Go, go, go..." It means that I love adventures and welcome (calculated) risks. The seconds right before the plane takes off into the sky. The thrill you feel when sharing a new idea. The excited vibration in the air right before you meet someone you suspect will become momental to you, but hasn't quite yet.
But as much as I welcome my newest adventure, I truly will miss Atlanta. It's the city in which I became a woman and started my career. The weather can be humid and hot, almost unbearable, yes. But summertime in the South is also magical—all sticky with heat at 8 in the morning, slow walks, porches with rocking chairs. Bourbon and long goodbyes, and yes ma’am’s...(Oh, and the strip clubs!) That kind of charm seeps into you. And I thoroughly cherish the memories and friends that I've made here. I suspect I won't be able to stay away, even if the visit is short. I'm so elated that 2019 has unfolded the way it has. And that I'm making this leap. To new friends, new experiences, and a new life. Albeit, one with much more walking! This baby's going to be a New Yorker. Cheers!