A little while back, in a sleepy city in southwest Florida, where palmettos grow and the sun shines often, there lived a young-hearted lady. She had a green thumb, could bake a mean pie, and always knew the answers to life’s questions. She was smart, independent, and gave great hugs. She had a cute little house, where flowers thrived year-round, with a swing hanging off a big oak out back, on a street right off Atwater. She was mother, friend, teacher, and to me, grandmother. Atwater Lane is a reflection of past, present, and future. Of beauty, creativity, and service. Of love and labor, joy and giving. A place to call my own and build a future.