Savannah
Part
7: My mother's call
I
live here now, in this place of vivid watercolors and poetic tendencies. I came
here destroying the comfort that had begun to erode the corners of my routine
life in the north. Desiring so much to break free and leave it all behind, job,
love, familiarity, I sought out that newness, gave in to the restlessness, craving
a different extreme. A test.
Most
people are in awe of what I did, dropping everything and moving someplace I had
never been before, but then, it happens all the time, I am not the first person
to do it. To the ones who think me brave, it is in knowing that I was able to
make it work that supports their admission. To that I owe a nod to the earth,
the sea and the sky. They were my intuitive guides, my comfort when I had nothing
else to call my own, not even a bed. Their wonders kept me whole and pushed me
forward into a new realm, a new life where I now live, immersed in their glory
and richness, filled with words and wonder.
A
juxtaposition of light and dark, extremes that I found here in Savannah, define
this as a place I have called home for two years, a place I may soon leave behind,
yet one that is unique all unto itself. I never tire of discovering her secrets.
Never cease to see newness in the face of the clouds. For they always put on a
show for me.
Even
more incredible are the people that call Savannah home, and either have for just
a short while, or their entire lives.
They
never cease to amaze me with their diversity of attitude and gentility. Theirs
is certainly a more laid back pace of life here. There is hustle and bustle of
a city, but not so pronounced that people can't stop in the street to say hello
to their friends as they drive down the main street. Men hold the doors for women,
people say hello to you and when they ask how you're doing, they genuinely listen
to what you have to say. The weather is always a subject of conversation as is
the meal they had at this place or that place.
Beyond
that, they are people with unique backgrounds. They love baseball and St. Patrick's
Day and ghosts, as participating in spirits of one kind or another here makes
for a lively evening, one that goes well with a good ghost story.
Picture
Poem: Places
8.
And she waits
