3.5.25 // Spring
With spring dancing closer to her arrival, this is the time of year I miss Tennessee, my home state, the most.
There’s something about the ground thawing, flowers timidly exposing their vulnerable green stems to the erratic weather, warm gusts rolling in with a hint of sweetness, and sunshine kissing my brow that stirs up memories of home.
Maybe it’s the feeling of growth, of rebirth, of something both new and deeply familiar that comes through so strongly in spring’s awakening. Maybe it’s because Tennessee holds so many memories of my own thawing, of vulnerability, tenderness, and change...
Spring feels like Tennessee memories...
- Windows down, heat blasting in my '94 Land Rover Discovery (the one I saved up for, dreaming of "off-roading" in the thawing mud).
- "Freebird" playing for the first time, courtesy of my 14-year-old crush, who rode his dirt bike over just to bring me my favorite chocolate.
- Swimming in any body of water we could find: late-night plunges into the chilly Tennessee River, secret blue holes hidden from everyday onlookers, paddleboarding against the current to Maclellan Island.
- The promise of Friday night football games with my best friends after a summer of coming-of-age moments.
- Lifeguarding at the country club.
- Sunrises that felt like they were on alive.
- Weekends at friends’ lake houses, country music blaring, wakeboards carving through the water, laughter bouncing off the docks.
- Jack Daniels passed around a bonfire, flirting with temptation and fireflies.
- Sunday drives to nowhere with my mom, where no road was off-limits and no conversation off the table.
- Finding myself, losing myself again, wandering through fields of wildflowers, slipping on my brown Ariat cowboy boots (the ones mom got me for Christmas at 16) without fear of judgment.
Like spring, I return, thawed, softened, awakened by memory. With country music humming and my accent slipping out, I rediscover pieces of myself as winter fades into longer days. Spring stirs me awake, tugging at my roots, drawing out parts of me only the sun and warmth can reach... memories unwritten yet deeply felt, waiting to bloom again.
