“Can I come home yet?”I ask her.
I am in Connecticut for the first time since moving to Atlanta. I am talking to Carol, someone who has been a spiritual mentor to me for the last few years. I’ve slept on her couch while she and her husband have gone on date nights and brought me home ice cream like I’m their child.
“It’s been six months and I don’t feel like anything is happening,” I tell her.
The vision in my head of what I thought a new city would look like has not come to fruition, and I would like to give up now.
“No,”she says matter-of-factly. “You’re in the valley.”