It’s springtime and all I want is to be outside. The pollen has fallen and everything’s coated in gold, and every chit-chatty conversation turns to this fact. I hear there’s an artist who comes and paints designs in the layers of dust on people’s cars. Everybody’s sneezing and rubbing their eyes and muttering, but for my part, I’m just happy for the world to feel big again. Big sky, open windows, bike rides against the green (and gold) everywhere, and at night, fire pits and barbecuing in the backyard. Last night we wore t-shirts and shorts and ate still more barbecue at the drive-in and my friend commented on the clear, gorgeous sky, the perfect temperature and the lack of insects. It has gone from winter straight to early summer here, and I could complain about the lack of spring, but I figure I’ll do enough of that later. For now, I’ll just revel.
There’s so much I want to do. I want to bike as far as I can on the Silver Comet trail. I want to go camping in the mountains north of town. I want to visit Rose Hill Cemetery in Macon. I want to hike up to the top of Stone Mountain at dawn. We have this neighbor with a giant, cast-iron dragon in the backyard. It must be ten feet tall. Their house is on a corner. You turn that corner, and above the picket fence that boxes their backyard, this dragon head warns you not to mess. At night, the dragon is backlit by a bright spotlight. I want badly to interview this neighbor, but even with my frequent walks about the neighborhood, I’ve never once seen a soul outside of this house. Only—once—a truck with a bumper sticker that read, “Artists with Guns.” I really, really want to interview this neighbor.
I’m spending a lot of my free time imagining myself into other cities and other lives as I look for jobs, but at the moment, I really just want to freeze this life. Of course, Frost was right. If there was ever a time when Atlanta was gold, this is it, and it won’t last.