This morning was rainy. It was
cold and sleepy, Savannah. Not a hard rain, just enough to make Sunday morning
blurry. Fritz and I sat on a bench at the end of River Street, spending the
morning watching the boats roll in. It was something I’ve always wanted to do
and now it was happening. Granted, I never thought it would include a bloody
mary, a cat on a leash, and a reflection of the sleepless night before heading
off to college to the girl staring off into the gray Savannah River, but it
felt perfect.
I’d been thinking a lot about
bravery and grit, being someone, being one of those girls I had a crush on.
Becoming the girl that remembered small details and made people feel welcomed;
who mentored young girls, threw notable dinner parties and arranged flowers all
while holding the title director of development or creator of a local magazine.
And there I was, a girl in a
yellow raincoat with a coffee and a lavender bouquet, roaming the streets of a
sleepy city on a rainy morning mulling over thoughts such as risking more than
required and letting go of other things simply because they were heavy. I was a
girl out of a movie, a character out of the book I was always writing in my
head.
It was there, on a bench in Oglethorpe
Square that I realized at some point I was going to have to let you go.
So there’s that.
