My hometown of Macon, GA, while charming, never served as the backdrop for the future I imagined for myself.
At age 18 I left to pursue education and experience (as so many of us do) and was wide open to the adventure that life would show me. My journey took me from Macon to Atlanta for undergrad, from Atlanta to rural Illinois for graduate school, and from Illinois to a small Moroccan village with the Peace Corps. I imagined my time in Morocco would be the spring-board for an international life. But when my two years there came to an end, the pull I had always felt to go abroad had unexpectedly shifted — back to the states, back to the South, back to Macon.
After ten years of being a nomad, the idea of something familiar, something like home, was compelling. I craved a language I knew without effort, a place I could take back roads blindfolded, home cookin’ that gave me comfort, and a community I could participate in as a native. I craved Macon.