My love for Knoxville Tennessee came to life on a canvas brushed with starry nights, barking dogs, and lazy mountain drives in every season. If I close my eyes, filling my lungs I can still smell the lavender scented fabric softener as I pass through the front door of the small house on Florida avenue. For years I would come to think of Knoxville as my second home, always feeling that the slow paced, sleepy south understood me best. My square foot garden had planted deep roots in the lush green of the backyard where we would sit in the stillness of the early morning hours on the small back stoop wrapped in that warm blue blanket, drinking coffee with my head resting on your shoulder.
The day I found myself outside with my face pressed up against love’s glass you were long gone, it was only then that I took my first step down the dark spiral staircase that led me to begin this journey.
Politely closing the door to any hope that what I have begrudging left behind will stay put, like an unexpected second wind those ghosts from the past find a way to whip all around the scene of a crime I still can’t leave.
I do not like change. Not the change that comes with goodbye, not the letting go and I ache at the uncertainty of it all.
Some will understand the enormity of what this means for me, many will not. Either way I will not go unscathed.
Lindsey’s husband has taken a job to coach at the University of Tennessee. It is just a matter of time before she moves to Knoxville.
The irony of it all makes me swallow hard, dig my heels in and want to run.