Two years ago I was on a soul-searching, summer solo road trip through Middle America… I was looking for the happy version of myself, which I had evidence enough to believe existed, even if it had become a bit of a tall-tale by that point, when he asked me to dance on the edge of the floor at Legend’s Corner in Nashville. We watched the next 3 sunrises together.
After swapping things car to car in the parking lot post Patys breakfast, my Mom & I hugged goodbye. I made it halfway across the street before turning back, tears swelling in my eyes as the words left my mouth, “Mama, I’ve been trying to talk myself out’ta this, but I need to say it just so I know I said it…”
There is sorcery in this space – this bubble of fearless acceptance, that can’t entirely be explained in words – it is the same feeling I have had in the most spiritual places in the world.
I was 17 the first time I clerked at a polling station – partly because I got the day off school to do so, plus extra credit in Mr. Snively’s American History class, & partly because I knew that I didn’t yet comprehend how remarkable it is that we have the right.