It’s the last day of my 20s, and I’m doing a café crawl. Because I’m an introverted writer and coffee shops are my true home.
I’m here at Octane, my second café of the morning.
Octane is the place I would come to before we moved to Atlanta. I would get here at 6:40 am and wait in the car listening to my book on tape until they opened at 7.
I wrote about Paris here and house deals that fell through and Talia being pregnant with Remy.
I would look out the big windows at the sun rising, the morning making visible Grant Park’s big trees and Victorian homes, and I would dream of living in the city and wonder if it would ever happen.
Then it did and I found other cafés to inhabit, but I will always remember this as an in between place, and think of that time nostalgically and with compassion.
It was one of the most stressful periods of my life, but also a time of becoming, and you can’t become without pain.
