I look out from my tiny little porch towards the city. In Autumns past I’ve been excited about relationships and leaves falling with the changing of colors and the beauty that I find in the coldness of time upon my face. I remember places I’ve been, like Minnesota for a wedding or North Georgia meets Greenville where I’ve been surrounded by nature and people I love. This year, Autumn is somehow more connected to this city. I don’t know what it is, and I haven’t put my finger on it, but this Fall is Autumn and Atlanta; Autumn in Atlanta. And my anticipation is more like a boy looking for a bright new bike on Christmas morning than anything else.
Have you wondered why we keep getting rained on? I have. It’s as if I know Atlanta needs the rain. Without the extra watering, we might not be soulfully fruitful like we could be. And with that in mind, it makes sense that it’s still warm too. We’re not ready. The great hand of creation knows what’s good for her creatures, even if we have minds to possess our own creating. We’re still products of something greater. And when people are drowning and infrastructures are falling, I hope that it’s obvious enough.
I’m a pioneer for a celestial city, which I might not find ’til after I die, but I don’t know if giving up is the best mentality. Atlanta in transit needs some more ground-staking, some more expecting that we can be grand. We are full of peoples longing to be somebodies, full of folks longing for something greater. And my plea is this, my call to you is this: Try on Autumn in Atlanta this year. If you hear Sinatra singing about New York, be inspired to stay, not to leave.
I don’t know about you, but when the trees are shedding their leaves, and when I’m standing on my front porch during Autumn, my view of this city only gets better.