American Honey

She grew up on the side of the road
Where the church bells ring and strong love grows
She grew up good
She grew up slow
Like American honey

Steady as a preacher
Free as a weed
Couldn't wait to get going
But wasn't quite ready to leave
So innocent, pure and sweet
American honey


It seems that the shuffle Gods have been casting their karmic powers onto my iPod. In the past few weeks, as I've traveled from LA to Athens to Nashville to Atlanta, frantically saying ecstatic hellos and too-soon goodbyes, this Lady Antebellum song has been constant. I took my first deep breath in about 2 weeks in the shower this morning and right as I did - wouldn't ya know it - it came on again, and I actually listened to the lyrics. I teared up.  Damn you iPod cosmos. 


But I was glad that it did. For the first time in a while, I thought about how appreciative of the time I've had here. I printed out a bunch of pictures earlier this week (project #1,943 that I somehow managed to complete) and I looked back on all the wonderful times I had this year and the years before. Twelve pictures of my sister and I on our first days of school, and dozens of smiling faces from middle school plays, high school dances and Vanderbilt vacations tugged at my heartstrings. 

I tried to brush it off at the time. Hmm, I can't really think about that - I have 19 pairs of shoes to pack and a new continent to invade. Emociones, adios!   


Naturally, the iPod deities intervened. I hummed along, trying not to let the words sink in, because I knew a bout of tearful and exhausted nostalgia was coming on. When the words "couldn't wait to get going, but wasn't quite ready to leave" played through my bathroom, I couldn't accept that as coincidence. Here I was, telling everyone with a huge smile that I am so excited to get out of Atlanta and jetset my tush off to Madrid, but the truth is that the nerves haven't settled all summer. The pictures I looked at this week, the high school football game I attended, my bed that I slept in - everything is comfortable. Breaking the cycle of familiarity is a tough one, and while I think I've talked the talk, I've never really walked the walk. 


Yet here I am. I'm trying to realize that I'll always have the memories and the relationships of my sweet American honey in the good ol' U S of A, but I need a little spice right now. I've had my share of Georgia peaches this summer, walking on Saturday mornings to the farmer's market with my so-amazing-it's-just-pointless-to-describe mom... and I wouldn't trade that sweetness for the world. But on the edge of 21, I'm getting ready to whip up something a bit more savory and a lot more complex. It might not be as simple as the life I've had here, but I'm willing to bet that by the time I bring some paella recipes back to the South, I'll be bringing a little Spanish honey with me - and all of the sweet things that I discover along the way. Adios Atlanta! Madrid, hasta manana!