A Decatur Morning

The air smells of magnolia and the city hustles below me as I sit and enjoy a cup of English breakfast tea on the balcony.

I realized that I don't document enough of my travels for y'all- and that is super selfish of me. Sitting on the balcony this morning, I wish all of you could experience this, could just breathe, just be for a few moments. New Orleans is the place my soul feels at home, the place where it's truly happiest. It's everything I love packaged into one: trees, people, water, history, mystery, warmth, and magic.

I first came here when I was 16 on a family vacation. It was a pit stop on our way to Orlando. Fourth of July in Nola was Magic to me. The city itself was magic.

It was a summer love affair that was over too quickly. Just two days - here and gone.

It was not enough.

Now as life has brought me back around, I have been here more times in the past year than I have since I was 16. The city has always welcomed me right back with its magic arms, wrapping them around me with anticipation as I reach the Ponchartrain. As soon as I see that water - as scarily deep and wide as it is - I know I'm home.

New Orleans is a place every soul needs to experience at least once. The quarter, Bourbon street, beignets, the people, the cemeteries, and just the city itself. It IS magic embodied as a place in time. It is its own vortex of time, it's own future and history all at the same time. A place both here in the universe and nowhere at the same time.

But I digress.

The firemen across the street at the Central Fire Station hustle about this morning, opening doors, drinking coffee, and just staring out into the city. The birds flitter here and there, the tiniest of breezes lazily plays in the leaves of the magnolia trees.

And I am happy.

Good morning y'all.