Brooklyn Peach: Planting Seeds of New Life

'A Brooklyn Peach'

Originally posted June 2013

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Skin

I spent Memorial Day Weekend in bed. Room dark. Blinds and curtains closed. Clothes and papers were strewn everywhere. I lay there with no intention and no desire to get up. Then it dawns on me that I am not simply being lazy or having some much-deserved “me time”. I was in shock and seated soundly in a state of disbelief. And more troubling, my old nemesis depression had come for a spell.

This move is more challenging than I thought.

It’s May 31st, 2013 and I’m waiting for my boxes to be picked up and taken to storage. I am still in a state of disbelief. Born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, I am packing up my apartment to move south. Putting a period on 53 and 1/2 years of big city living. My hometown, in all its glorious gentrified growth, never fails to excite me, yet, for the last few months, I have increasingly felt both restless and stagnant.

One morning six weeks ago I came to the sad realization that New York was closed to me; I was finished, and there was nothing else left to receive. I was deeply convicted that it was time to move. Not across town, not another borough. As a woman of a certain age, I am in ‘been there, done that mode. I need a change big enough to challenge and surprise me. I wait quietly as this settles in my spirit. Yes, I will move in June and begin my next chapter. Excited, I celebrate in my comfy queenly bed with a tall iced chai latte and a notepad to jot down my moving to-do list. Unaware of this momentous decision, my two cats lay sleeping at my feet.

I knew this was coming. In 2010, at 50, I left my job and church for 20 years. I enrolled in school and started a business. I was also the primary caregiver for my 92-year-old mother whose mind resided comfortably in decades past. Three months prior my sister and I permanently exchanged my mother’s care; moving mom into her home two states away. I no longer have a significant reason to stay in New York. My business is portable. Many carefully cultivated friendships have regrettably slipped into acquaintance-ships, and my son who I’d missed watching grow up, extends an open invitation to join him and his family in Georgia. So I breathe through this bone-deep melancholy and research moving companies. It is well, I tell myself. When one door closes, another opens. It is well.

I tell a few folks and begin to pack up, sell and give away possessions. I half-heartedly wait for the “No don’t go” that may entice me to stay; scanning my space and my city for a reason that never comes. My time here is over. I'm letting go and peeling away. My son is on his way to get me. I clean the apartment and tie up loose ends before I lock my door for the last time to start a new life in the South.

I don’t know how we’ll fit the cats into the car.

Part 2: Flesh

It took longer than I thought it would to sift through and decide the fate of my belongings. Mostly because it felt like I should keep everything, or leave everything. The free spirit in me only wanted to take one suitcase, my hats, and my books. My sensible side said, ‘You may need a little more than that’. How do you pack a life? What wasn’t stored with friends or family was hurriedly tossed into black garbage bags for disposal, while the rest were assigned to a piece of luggage or yet another black plastic bag.

My son and his friend packed the van. I grabbed the cats. I got out of the city by sundown.

New York City to Atlanta is almost 900 miles. I sleep through most of it, waking up for bathroom breaks, stretching, and calming my oldest cat, who was not amused by the move or his travel conditions. I wake up in Downtown Atlanta in the middle of rush hour traffic.

I immediately feel at peace. I am home.

Part 3: Seed

10 Years ago…June 2013

Part 3: Seed

The South scares me. It has nothing to do with the history of slavery, racism, or the civil rights movement. It’s the absence of people that freaks me out. I grew up surrounded by a crowd; there is a perception of safety in numbers. I realize I suffer from "Post Traumatic Hood Disorder!"

There are no fences here. People can just walk up to your door or into your yard! I’m amazed no one else is amazed. The other day a neighbor's teens came around the back of the house; stopping by for a visit. My New York mind immediately wondered if this was a home invasion. Some trees cast shadows as scary as any mugger would be. At dusk, a quiet street gets even quieter. Only the number of cars in driveways increases.

There. Is. No. Noise.

I am adjusting: to the sound of silence, the natural noises of an unfamiliar house, and the fact that for the first time in my life, I have no idea what my neighbors are doing.

But I am falling for this Atlanta. My son’s garden. The way trees instead of buildings dominate the landscape. That some houses are painted colors like mint and sapphire blue. That we have a home full of dogs and cats with room to spare. I love that our dog lays in the sun all day and rests his huge head on my lap at night. I love the ability to have breakfast on the deck in my robe; a luxury city dwellers only dream of. People are open, probably more than they know. I feel like I’m on the set of a television show--is this Mayberry? It's nothing like my beloved Brooklyn, but that’s ok.

I am planting the seeds of new life; starting my own garden. Starting anew

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I’ve been a Southerner for seven days. A Brooklyn Peach.

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UPDATE: June 2023

Completely adjusted to life in the South, I can’t imagine not living surrounded by nature, especially trees. I spent the first year sitting on my deck, watching the seasons change. It was the first time in my life I was still--not worried, or afraid.

The gift of that time was the chance to acclimate to a new environment and do the deep healing work I didn't know I needed. Away from most of my family and friends, I turned inward. I wrestled with God and myself. Assisted by Spirit, I went all the way back to my childhood and moved forward. I examined every choice, decision, every relationship. One by one God actually brought people back into my life I hadn’t spoken with in decades. I was able to get the resolution I needed.

Since I wasn't busy being busy, I had time to observe myself--seeing my patterns--destructive and instructive.

I'm 10 years older, wiser. It’s clear the reason Spirit directed me here was self-recovery.

Now I’m on the verge of starting over…again. And just like a decade ago, I’m going not knowing. This time I don’t need to move zip codes, now the movement is within.

Have you ever decided to start over?

If so, what did it teach you?

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I AM…

A Brooklyn Peach. Born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, now residing in "a city set in a forest," Atlanta, GA. I love warm chocolate chip cookies, funk music, documentaries, memoirs, and Romans 12:1-2. I love talking about pop culture, women in the Bible, homemaking, healthy living, grandmothering, reading, and rituals! The best part is when I get to share how it all blends together for good.

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Have a beautiful week! Don't let anyone take your joy, and remember, all you need you already possess.