What I Love about My Life in Memphis

I live in Memphis on an island with wild edges and a dog who loves them as much as I do.

I have a wood-burning fireplace in my house.

I go to St. Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral where the Dean stands up in the pulpit and preaches the most unsettling, Holy truths, in a caring, loving way.

I can walk to the grocery store. I can walk to the coffee shop. I can walk to the cleaners, but I don’t because if I’m going to the cleaners, I’m toting clothes.

I have a weekly writing group where we can talk about anything and, while you might get hooted for your comments, you know you’re loved.

I have a monthly writing group that is made up of some of the finest writers I know.

I have wind chimes outside my bedroom window and a dove of peace that coos.

I have good friends who invite me to meet them for coffee where we exchange wisdom and laugh.

I can hang out at Caritas Village whenever I want.

I can drink the world’s best water straight from the tap.

I know how to work the burners on the stove.

I walk past flowers blooming in my yard whenever I leave through the front door.

I can see the Mississippi River—sometimes sparkling or flat or muddy or laced with the deepest sheen of blue—every single day.

I know my way ’round Memphis town. I know which direction is east, west, north and south. I don’t get lost.

I have a bathtub.

I have a printer.

I have a guest bedroom where people can come and stay and fill the house with love.

I can go for walks in the Old Forest in one of the country’s most famous parks where the boughs lean over us like a hushed sanctuary.

I know where to buy petit fours.

I share this life with my husband, whom I love dearly and who is with me most anywhere I go, but life in Memphis would be bereft of fun without him.