Every spring I have made it a tradition of rereading, 'One Hundred Years of Solitude.' There's just something about the writing, characters and settings that makes me read it like the first time, every time. So, this week I opened my windows, arranged some makeshift patio furniture and spent most afternoons on my balcony reading and thinking about how much has changed in 12 months.
In one year, I have moved to Nashville, made it my home, embraced stranger's kindness, become less alarmed at people asking how far I parked so they can carry my groceries, got back onto a tennis court, bought vinyl, scratched vinyl, dealt with job setbacks, learned not to place my entire value in work, left people not worth my time in the past, been confident to go to dinner alone, made great friends, ordered moonshine more than once, gotten butterflies again and grown up.
My apartment feels like a home and the many friends who have spent nights chatting over whiskey have made me feel more loved and supported than I could have ever imagined. Right now I'm on the cusp of making some decisions on jobs and for the first time in a long time, I'm not anxious about it. I'm excited at the prospects, taking chances and just living. Who knows where I'll be a year from now but I'm hoping it involves a good book, sunshine and many more airport pickups.
