saturation point

I remember this same feeling when the Tsunami hit, as Katrina rolled out, after the Haiti earthquake, and now, my beloved Tennessee. I hate to say it's more substantial to me, but you know, it's my home.

Sitting on my couch with Penny, drinking (possibly chugging) a glass (or three) of wine, flipping through channel after channel hoping some national news program will show something, anything, about the southern floods. Frustrated, I turn it off. I don't know what to do, so I sit there and notice the sun flowing in through my windows and warming up my home, flowers all a'bloom outside, and in a very bizarre way, I'm annoyed. I just want to be home in Tennessee.

Now, I'm a smart girl, and I know the "there's nothing you can really do" argument. I gave what money I could. But the feeling of helplessness is overwhelming to me.

I know that I am now at my saturation point. The enormity of the situation there, with me being here, is starting to affect (effect? why can't i ever get this right?!) me to a point that I need some distance.

Jeremy and I are leaving on Saturday for a much needed, not so-cheap, vacation to the Virgin Islands, and I need to get in the right frame of mind. I need this vacation, but Jeremy REALLY needs it- he hates his job, and this trip has been a bright thing for him to look forward to for months. He needs me to be fully present, drink in hand and a cheesy little smile on my face, not the April that I've been this week. He's been so sweet, but I can't expect him to get it 100%, it's not his hometown.

I hope I can start to leave it in the back of my mind, just for one week. Leave the guilt behind, too.

But it's just so hard...

Nashville, I've never been so proud of you. I've been watching as neighbors help neighbors, strangers help families, volunteer lists fill up in a matter of minutes. You are banding together. It's that spirit that makes me think that you truly are where I belong. And certainly that I need to go ahead and get that dirty south tattoo.

See you in a few weeks, Nashville. I can't wait to give you a big old wet kiss.

on missing the south:

days like today, when the air in colorado is about 15 degrees cooler than I like to spend my April, and I notice that I don't hear the buzz of bees, or smell the bradford pears, these are the moments where I really miss tennessee.

I see photos like these on friends blogs...











...and the longing hits me like a ton of bricks.

I'm not saying Colorado ain't lovely. I mean, those Rockies are something else. And it's hard for me to complain about the lack of allergies, bugs, humidity and such, but still... it's just not the same.

I'm so thankful that Jeremy is from the South and understands this need for front porches, lightening bugs, sticky skin, and mostly, the company of family and friends on a perfect 75 degree evening.

As much as I love it here, and it feels like home 90% of the time, those perfect southern spring days definitly leave me with an aching that I can't really explain.

But y'all down there in Tennessee, you get it. Now, please go clip some dogwood or forsythia branches and put them on your table for me.

I'm gonna go put on some Drive By Truckers now and stop the whining.