I have a meadow office now.
It’s on a yellow checkered picnic blanket in a park that is almost always empty (except for a few dogs and their owners, some old ladies and their newspapers).
It has sun and shade, a large old tree that feels like it’s guarding me, and there are birds ants and squirrels, and long stretches of grass with puddles of white clover flowers.
It's so green right now, and the other day I heard that Atlanta has the highest ratio trees per person and I haven’t checked if that’s true but I like it.

Two weeks ago I sat in this exact spot when I got the call that a dear fried of mine had died.
I had been thinking that this place feels so meaningful to me. That later, when we’re back in LA, I will think about it with warmth.
Now it carries so much more; it’s a meadow for thoughts about life and death, and I will never forget it and the large old tree that took such good care of me.

We got to experience some real Georgia weather this past week, with Tornado warnings, and thunder storms louder than any I’ve ever been through before. It was my very first Tornado scare.
We sat on the front porch one evening when the rain poured down. Lightning flashed the sky every other minute and the thunder rumbled for what felt like a lifetime before it rolled away.
My head on his shoulder in the jasmine scented, humid Atlanta night.
That’s another one of those evenings that will become an important memory from this time in my life.

I remember having full thoughts.
I don’t remember losing them though, but they probably got misplaced somewhere in the pandemic.
Maybe if I sit down to write they will return?
Last week I walked so much I kept waking up in the middle of the night with cramps in the foot. Let me tell you, it’s quite difficult to discretely get rid of a foot cramp without waking up the person sleeping next to you. Leg, straight up to the sky, fingers desperately pulling back on toes hoping for relief, tension everywhere, PAIN! Teeth clenched.
Wait. Did I do it?
Relax. Breathe.
NOPE! OW OW OW!
Repeat.

Things I’ve noticed after being in Atlanta for a couple of weeks now:
-Everyone has a dog or two.
-Revving and/or blasting loud music from your car seems to be huge in Atlanta.
-Parks on every corner! Love the many green spaces.
-It smells like weed everywhere.
-Atlanta feels a lot like Gothenburg. It surprises me every day how Gothenburgy it is. Train tracks through the city, a bit roughness, bricks and concrete next to each other, beauty in the old. Unpretentious and full of life.
-My outfits seem a bit out of place here. More so than any other place I’ve been to. Not that it bothers me, it’s just an observation.
-Atlanta feels like it was made for springtime! Flowering trees like fluffy colorful clouds along the sidewalks. Confetti on the ground. Green leaves bursting from every branch.

I put on music, sit down in front of the computer, and hope for full thoughts.
Are there still just bubbles in there? Scattered pieces of sentences and scrambled words without an end. Do I have something I can focus on, cling to, rope it in and fold it up into a neat little bow of ThoughtFull-ness. Something that makes sense?
I see a piece of thread sticking out from underneath a pile of wayward thinking. If I pull on it, will it all just unravel into more fragmented ideas or will I be able to wind it into a ball of yarn? A ball of thoughts perfectly rolled up into a manageable size?
I will need a basket for all of these.

When all this is over we will remember the routines we made in these out of the ordinary times.
We will remember the lunches we had on our shaded patio every single day.
How I learned to make Bao, the perfect sushi rice, fresh pasta, Japanese Milkbread, fish tacos, salmon tartines worthy of any fancy restaurant, and how we had Swedish pancakes on Sundays.
We’ll remember how the sun made its way through the ceiling of oak tree branches and created glittering spots of light on the table.
How our collection of serving bowls and platters had to grow substantially because my culinary adventures demanded it- and how fun it was to search for, and then find, the perfect vintage pieces for sauces, salads and potatoes.
We’ll remember the afternoon naps we took on the small patio sofa, entwined ~just so~ to fit. The sound of a leaf blower somewhere in the neighborhood, the wind chimes we’d not been able to locate, the smell of weed drifting over from the girl living next to us, the toddler screaming in the house across, the buzzing of a hummingbird flying by over our heads, and the fighting between the two squirrels that both seemed to have decided they alone deserved to live and reign in these tree tops.
We’ll surely remember the evening walks. Up and down dwindling streets, muffled hellos through face masks to neighbors we didn’t know we had before. The cheery HI! from the celebrity that always seemed so happy to see us even though we’d never met and didn’t know each other.
The street corners where the sun always blinded us if weren’t wearing sunglasses, the hills that raised the pulse, the ugly party house where we once saw an inflatable flamingo that had flown over the wall and onto the street.
We’ll also remember the sandwiches we ate on the balcony after our walks, right when the sun was setting behind the trees. How we could sit out there every single evening and never tire of it.
(We’ll always remember the love we have for our house.)
We’ll remember all the movies we watched (maybe not exactly what they were about- we all know I forget every movie five minutes after the credits has rolled), how it took us forever to choose which 90s action movie we wanted to rewatch that night, and David’s shock when he learned I had not seen a particular film (only to realize 30 minutes into the movie that I had, in fact, already seen it).
How my (already staggering) popcorn consumption went through the roof those months, but movies demand popcorn, and we saw so many; curled up on the sofa, forgetting for a little while that outside roared a pandemic.

The world this year was upside down and the history books will be full of statistics, facts and data that will shape the way we see our future for many many years to come. Injustices came to the surface and people will have too many memories of unfairness and stuff they wish they could forget.
But these things here are for us to choose to remember when the books will not.

I’ve thought about this place a lot lately. I guess that’s why I’m here, again, talking with you.
It’s been so long since I wrote anything meant for this space.

I’ve been evolving.

I had a few months when I had to write only for myself, when I needed to just ramble without filtering feelings and thoughts. It was good, I think. Then I stopped doing that. I didn’t need it anymore. That was good too.
And then the months flew by with Actually Having Real Stuff To Do and oh wow the difference was overwhelming.
At the start of this year I thought a lot about what I wanted to change in my life, and then a week ago I realized I had actually done it. Or at least I’m well on my way towards it.
You know when you’re sad and you say to yourself “If I just had this or if I just had that, everything would be so much better” but you also think “maybe I’m not good enough for this or that” but you work hard, or you let time do its thing, you’re patient (or not so patient but time sure goes anyway), and all of a sudden you have Those Things and yes that WAS exactly what was missing?
Well, that was what happened to me.
One of those things was theater.
I’ve missed it. And now I have it.
It’s just a class. But there is no “just” about it. Because it’s been life changing.
It took a fleeting self confidence, roped it back, secured it safely, right where it belonged, smack dab in the middle of the heart.

I mentioned that I had been thinking about this place lately.
And then, the other day, someone wrote on twitter how much they love this blog.
This previously dying space.
I was surprised.
I went here and I read three pages back and I felt proud of my words. I liked them a lot. Even though the posts have been sporadic, they have been worth it. They have been good.
I’ve missed blogging, but the past five years’ changes in life-privacy-work made it so difficult to know what to make of this place. I can’t go back to blogging the way I used to- I can only move forward- and I really would like this little corner of the internet to be a part of it. If possible.

So if you see me here more than usual, don’t be surprised. And likewise; if you see me here just as sporadically as in the past couple of years, don’t be surprised by that either.
Any of it is worth it.