We live on the end, three story unit. The patio is off the master and is my writing spot, and instead of a private dinner patio, our table is the yellow one here in the square, where we might make new friends to join us at any moment.

This is a close up our the first floor, and the freshly rained on hydrangeas I planted this week.

My “writing spot” on the patio.

Yesterday, I walked out of 500 Brasfield, across the cobblestoned Bocce Ball court, and down the narrow city street to get my nails repaired after too many DIY projects in our new place.  I strolled through the downtown streets afterwards, finally feeling no need to rush.  I admired my shiny pink nails and eyed by new surroundings–the trendy new tapas restaurant that opened last month and Relish, the hair salon that charges $40 for a men’s cut.  I giggled to myself, thinking how bizarre and amazing it feels to be in the city, where almost any want or need is at my fingertips, and it’s all so stylish and yet quirky. (Note that two streets up there is graffiti all over the street signs and bars on the windows, but this is a transitional area, they tell me.)  I meandered down Bertram Street and over to the fountain in the park that borders the pool and fitness center, while noting the beautiful Atlanta skyline that slowly came into full view.  After so many years of open space and sprawling farm land, you’d think I’d feel claustrophobic here, which is the typical commentary from my family regarding city life.  Instead, it feels so refreshing and invigorating to be in a place that has a sense of community.  I love knowing that I’ll bump into at least 5 people and their dogs on my walk to get the mail, and they’ll smile, wish me a good morning, and maybe even stop to tell me that their dog’s name is “Nugget” or “Plato.”  I don’t mind re-learning how to parallel park in front of my townhouse and I love knowing that I live right next door to someone living out their version of the dream.  I laugh knowing that the townhouse next door might hear my Tammy Wynette and Loretta Lynn through the walls and I love that at night I can putz in the kitchen and look out on a narrow street with another five houses in view, also prepping for the night.  For the first time in my adult life, I feel like an integral part of a community, and unlike my childhood, I got to choose this community and to be as active as I wish.

Turner Field and Grant Park are practically in my back yard, the Zoo is one exit away, there’s a farmer’s market on most corners on Saturdays, and every trendy niche of the city with all their beautiful restaurants and patios are within about 10 minutes.  Truth is, I get the best of all worlds now, because I already know what it feels like to work hard, have my hands in the dirt, my tennis shoes covered in chicken manure, and appreciate the simple things in life. Now I get to remember where I started, but continue into a future that allows me to tap into a completely different world.  It’s not better or worse—it’s just different—and I love it.  I can’t wait to attend the Pride event next week at The Shed, hunt strawberries at the farmer’s market for my summer jam and take Nicholas to a little dive in Decatur that is supposed to have the best summer brew.