Before I met Miami, my life was a series of mercurial moves. I was a wanderer; a gypsy; always fleeing in earnest from one city to another. A “rambling (wo)man”, so to speak. In the words of Hank Williams, “Some folks may say that I’m no good/That I wouldn’t settle down if I could/But when that open road starts to calling me/There’s something o’er that hill that I gotta see.”
That was me. From Honolulu to Laramie and New York City to Napa; from Dallas to Washington, DC and Panama City Beach to Hollywood: my nomadic nature led me from one new city to another; free to begin anew, alone and unhindered.
Relationships were ended. Furniture was given away. Friends were left behind. Jobs were quit. After nine months or so in a new place, the familiar feelings of discontent would roll in like the tide and I’d be planning my next escape.
Then, I met the Magic City, and everything changed.