One Year.

Exactly one year ago, today, I pulled my car into the garage of my parents’ house so I could load it full of every one of my belongings that would fit without having to brave the subzero temperatures outside. I cursed myself for not having been better prepared on the packing front, and later, when I was well on my way, driving through Wisconsin, for not making my sunglasses more accessible to myself as I drove. The sun was in fine form that day, and with the snow blanketing the world around me, my future was a little blinding.

I had no idea what to expect.

I played my new CDs at full blast for seven hours. The Decemberists and Deana Carter and Jon McLaughlin made for wonderful road companions. Just as the sun was making its final descent and the snow was just beginning to fall, I laid eyes on Chicago for the very first time. It was the first in a series of firsts that would happen over the following year: first time sleeping on a blogger’s couch, first time beholding the Nashville skyline, first time meeting the girl who would be my roommate for a long and indefinite amount of time, first rented house, first real, grown-up vacation, first meal in my own kitchen, first Nashville open mic night, first time in a real studio.

I immediately fell for Chicago and the people in it as the snow fell around me. I almost gave up on Tennessee that first night and decided to stay right there in that city blanketed in white. But I had no choice. I had to move on. So twelve hours after I’d first said hello, I waved goodbye to a new city and a new friend, I navigated through the storm that covered every last piece of road from Chicago to Indianapolis, and I emerged, 10 hours and 70 degrees later, in a place covered in brown grass and bare trees, and warm enough to warrant leaving my coat in the car as I unpacked the back seat and inflated an air mattress in an otherwise empty bedroom.

I camped on that air mattress for months, watching Doogie Howser on Hulu, staring at my ceiling and daydreaming about everything I’d left behind me, and talking to old friends on the phone, trying to make it sound as if I was doing more than I was. I depleted my savings, ran up my credit card, and looked desperately for a job — any job — that would take away the guilt of eating anything that didn’t include a package of ramen. Spring came earlier than I expected, I started running, I blogged every day, I finally found a job. I put away the air mattress so I could sleep in a real bed, I started paying off my credit card, I started saving again.  I went back to Chicago. Friends visited Nashville, I met new people, I started playing open mic nights, I took on new projects.  Before I knew it, I had absolutely no free time.

And I loved it.

A year passed, and as I’ve looked back on it, on paper, it doesn’t look as though I’ve accomplished much.  Or, it does, depending on how much I embellish.  Either way, I wasn’t the “hit the ground running” girl.  I’ve taken my time.  I’m still taking my time.  More music is on the horizon.  New jobs, maybe a move into Nashville.  Maybe I’ll stay here.  Maybe I’ll go to grad school.  I always wanted to go to Belmont, and now might be my chance.  If I’ve learned anything this year, it’s that I’m happy to take life as it comes.  My life’s happiness is not contingent on landing my dream career in music tomorrow or next week.  I’m content to think it may be somewhere on the horizon.  I’m satisfied knowing I’m working for it at a pace that’s comfortable to me.  I’m happy to do anything to make ends meet, as long as I get to keep writing.  I think the success will come someday, and I’m not willing to force it.  I want to be ready for it, I want to be the best I can be when the opportunity presents itself.  Until then, I’ll keep writing, I’ll keep performing, I’ll keep getting out and meeting people, and when the right circumstance happens along, I’ll be jumping up and down with my hands waving in the air shouting,

“Ooh!  Ooh!  Pick ME!“

It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.

I’m happy here.  Tennessee was meant to be my home.  Life isn’t always easy, but it’s mine to live.  I’ve got friends and music to fill it up.  I’ve got things some people only dream of.

A year ago, the sun blinded me until the snow began falling, obstructing my view.  I couldn’t see what was in front of me, and now it’s all behind.  But there’s still more to come, and as my dad always says,

My future’s so bright, I gotta wear shades.

Happy One Year Anniversary, Tennessee.  I love you dearly.