Georgia on My Mind P1
August 6. A year ago I sat in the sand at Tybee Island enjoying occasional sprints to the water where the salt would wash through my hair, leaving it sticky and grainy, soothing the jellyfish sting. It was my first time to the warm water of the East Coast. It was my first time to Georgia too. Here I was, freshly 22 and enjoying the next few days with my mom and grandma before starting grad school.
It all kind of happened on a "methodical-whim". Georgia was an option in a sea of choices that would eventually lead me 1000 miles east on I-20 away from the small Texas city I'd called home for the last four years. Transitions happen. I was ready. It would be an new adventure, just as fantastic as the last with community, friends, and memories to shape me into the person I am and will be. It had to be, right?
As my mom drove off for Wisconsin that morning, sadness mixed with excitement as I planned to learn the bus system that day. I'd mapped out stops and routes, determined to ride all day. I had never used public transportation and eagerly looked forward to meeting strangers and familiarizing myself with all the neighborhoods of the city. This is the person I want to be, I thought. Because I could be anyone. Up until now I knew not a single soul in this city and only one other person in the state. It was a new beginning.
I'd quickly learn that Georgia would be a new beginning but not in the way I'd imagined that April day with Kara at Fazolis when I finally decided to make this my home and not look back.