Atticus   

When I quit pursuing a master’s degree three quarters into the program, I, after almost five years in east central Alabama, abruptly left Auburn without a farewell, only my dad and I transporting all my belongings north.

Roughly 14 years later, there I was again, packing up my life – the mismatched dishes, enough socks to stuff a dresser drawer, old Auburn football programs, the photographs from not only my three-week trip to Europe in ’94 but also every other event I captured on film in the preceding 25 years as well as every other item and memento that would help some future archaeologist develop an image of who we are – and hurriedly cramming it all together in mostly no real order or system besides making it fit into the back of a Penske truck.

Despite almost nine years of building a life there, I never got a chance to say goodbye to the city that became home.

Many of my friends and relatives would be shocked to learn I didn’t spit on the city limits sign on the road out of town.

I won’t deny it: There were a lot of years I found Atlanta tough to love. No. 1 in crime. Top five in traffic. Top five in smog. High taxes with little return for the money. And a population of transients who seemed to need to see your credentials before considering whether to befriend you.

But in the last six months I was there, I had a major attitude adjustment. I can’t even say what brought it on. I just began focusing on the city’s strengths rather than its weaknesses.

There are so many things I’ll miss. Trips to Willie’s with Hayden. The 15 minutes it took me to get home after a Thrashers game. The country ham breakfast at The Silver Skillet. Drs. Gurley and Lehr. Limited-release movies at Midtown Art with Craig, sometimes against his wishes. Watching ballgames on TV with my roommate, Philip. The Silver Comet Trail. Eddie’s Attic, The Tabernacle and Smith’s Olde Bar.

My neighbors Red, Rosemary and the Conns. Celtic Christmas at Emory. Peel-‘n’-eat shrimp and fried catfish from Six Feet Under. Driving to Auburn for ballgames in under two hours. Corn on the cob like my grandmother’s at Eats.

Barbecue, cracklin’ cornbread and Brunswick stew with Eddie and Jill as we shared space with politicians, police officers and plumbers at Harold’s. Day drives to Amicalola Falls or Lake Rabun and Tallulah Falls. Weekends in Asheville and Chattanooga. Sporting events on the big screens at Taco Mac with Kevin. The annual Brandeis book sale in Toco Hills.

At least for now, see you later, Atlanta. And thank you. You’re the city too busy to hate.