Somehow, I have lived in Tennessee for a year. How did that happen?
This past Saturday marked the anniversary of completely uncharacteristic move 1100 miles south. In a way, it seems this year flew by, and yet living in Boston seems a long way back. I didn’t know a soul when I moved here, but of course I received a warm welcome. It is the south after all.
I’ve made many wonderful friends in the last 12 months. I’ve gotten to see my grandparents and extended family more than ever. I’ve discovered I like bluegrass. I’ve put 17,000 miles on my car. I’ve experienced a tornado warning. I’ve taken thousands of pictures of the sky. I haven’t done yoga once.
Words like “you’re fine” and “y’all” have become fixtures in my vocabulary. My style has become more eclectic and less preppy. Though it would be a serious stretch to call me an extrovert, I’m more outgoing and chatty than I used to be. I like to get out more.
I don’t have a TV in my room and I don’t miss it. I still haven’t bought bar stools so I don’t have a proper place to eat a meal. I cook maybe once or twice a week.
I’ve decided I’m not over the city living as much as I thought. I’ve stopped drinking soda. I like dogs more than I used to. I’ve been to the movie theater 3 times. I’ve canned jam.
I’ve learned more about what’s important to me and what’s not.
It feels like home here.
I think it’s time to take down this wreath.
Y’all come back,