Let's start at the ending. Like my favorite author, Mitch Albom, wrote: "It might seem strange to start a story with an ending. But all endings are also beginnings. We just don't know it at the time."
I ended my vacation week (week and a half, technically) in Nashville. By the time I left, I was absolutely enamored by it.
It's magic.
I can tolerate the face-melting heat because the place is so damn beautiful that it hurts.
My excuse for going was for a little, teeny tiny concert (with more than 56,000 of my closest friends). But the concert wasn't even my favorite part of my trip.
My favorite part by far was the Jack Daniel's Distillery tour.
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| Lynchburg, Tennessee |
On Christmas day last year, I talked about how I've always wanted to go there and try Jack in the town that it's made. I talked about how I wanted to go honky-tonking with a flame by my side.
When that flame fizzled about 2 seconds after Christmas day, I started to think about road trips I wanted to take.
Dating someone who spends the majority of their time (and my time) vying for another woman's attention is not very fun. Trust me on that.
I need fun and happy in my life. I need travel and concerts and whiskey and road trips.
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| Art museum downtown. |
I looked at going to Nashville in January. I looked at the concert ticket prices and hotel prices, and I quickly crossed it off the possibility list.
But wait! Concert tickets get cheaper as the date nears. I checked out Airbnbs, which are stupid affordable.
When I requested the dates off from work, I wasn't completely set in stone that I'd go. I booked the trip two weeks before I left.
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| Johnny Cash museum. |
But I did go. If I wait for a guy to take me, I might be waiting a while.
My parents called me towards the end of my trip and asked me if I was coming home. I passed. Nah, just sell my house and bring my dogs to me, I said. I think I could live here forever.
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| Pretty! |
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| Because of course there is. |
Fat chance, they told me. ("Come home and get your damn dogs.")
I very begrudgingly drove back to Kansas.
I knew it would be a special trip, but I didn't know that there'd be magic in the air.
Plus, traveling by yourself is kind of the shit. No one yelled at me for turning a fan on and I wasn't forbidden to speak in a room that I paid for. I also didn't spend the majority of my time talking about someone's ex-girlfriend. (That moment when you realize you've been in some really bad relationships...)
I used a fan, I talked to people and I spent absolutely no time talking about exes.
When I got lost downtown, I laughed at myself.
When I lost my car in an NFL stadium parking lot downtown at 1 a.m., I laughed at myself.
I laughed at how bad the traffic was, because that's kind of what you have to do when life doesn't go your way.
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| Elvis Presley's car. It had a record player in the back. |
Just laugh at the absurdity and move on.
I had no idea life would lead me here, but I'm so grateful it did.
Because every ending is also a beginning.
