If I hadn't moved to Georgia. . .

I might never have had a Chick Fil A sandwich or some of their amazing lemonade.

I wouldn’t know what Cow Appreciation Day is.

I probably would never have heard someone say, “I might could do that.”

I would have never seen a deer stealing off our peach tree.

I would have never tasted Red Velvet Cake.

I would still believe the Civil War ended in 1865.

I wouldn’t have eaten at the Varsity.

I wouldn’t have had to correct my child’s English when she said, “I’m fixing to. . . “

I wouldn’t have known it was possible to “miss” snow. (Just a little.)

I wouldn’t have known that even when they are fixed right, I still don’t like grits.

I wouldn’t have realized I’m a Yankee.

I wouldn’t have seen “Gone with the Wind” at the top of the CNN tower.

I wouldn’t know that ants can bite.

I wouldn’t live 1 ½ hours from my kindred-spirit cousin Cheryl and have the opportunity to get to know her wonderful family.

I wouldn’t understand possum jokes.

There are a lot of wonderful people I would not have met.

I probably would not be using “Hey!” as a greeting.

I wouldn’t have spent so much time trying to get Georgia clay stains out of my kids’ clothes.

I might never have actually seen Rock City.

I would have missed out on the Stone Mountain Laser Show, and the Butterfly Center at Callaway Gardens.