all roads lead to brooklyn
High noon on Thursday, I began the Northward drive from Miami. Passing power lines, cows, and little else, I fell asleep that night listening to crickets by the lake behind my parents’ house in Atlanta.
The next morning, my beautiful sister Kassandra woke early to breakfeast with me the Flying Biscuit—where the grits really are dreamy and an order of eggs and love cakes (black bean cakes with tomatillo salsa, feta, and sour cream) will lift you on the way back to the road.
I also admired my mother’s tomatoes,
and the gardenias that my mother has coaxed into a significant mass—a few traveled with me, perfuming the car as I drove on to Carrboro, North Carolina,
the wonderful town within Chapel Hill, where I sat on the lawn with local peach ice cream and the Weaver Street Market circular detailing local farm produce being featured this week at the co-op.
That night, I laughed with Ben, Jeremy, Seve, and Kyle and their friends at Enoteca in Charlottesville, waking with the sun to wander the farmers’ market that begins here at 7 a.m. on Saturdays, filled with tempting pie cherries this time of year.
My favorite market vendors hugged me and advised I take 81 for a more scenic drive (good advice that I took),
and this is their beautiful jewelry—when at the Charlottesville Market, do stop by and tell them I’ve sent you,
I miss the lettuce from Radical Roots with edible flowers on top of the lettuces and bought some for the road,
stopping by the Goat Cheese Man’s stand with its radishes,
and cheese donations, buying green garlic,
noting these baby carrots as I strode toward the car, keys at the ready for the final stretch to Brooklyn,
into this new apartment, a new job, and a new chapter…