The process of getting to Georgia was hard; so hard, in fact, that you might know that I almost didn’t come.
Yet, it’s like I told a friend: every mile that I drove closer to the Georgia border, I felt another weight drop off. And another, and another, and another. By the time I pulled into the driveway of my now-home, I was so light I held onto my car handle for a moment, afraid I might let go and float away.
And now I’m here, and I see why the process was so freaking hard: