The Frost on the Ground Probably Envies the Frost on the Trees

One year ago today, my whole world changed. One year ago today, I left work early on Friday, slapped on a little makeup and drove to Nashville. I posted a Facebook update when I got into town to see who was around and if anyone wanted to meet up. That was back in a time when I couldn’t group message a whole bunch of people “Where are you fuckers?”

I knew a few people well enough. I was sharing an Air BnB with a guy I’d met in person all of once, Eric. Was I worried? Not about this guy. I never doubted for a moment that he was one of us. To this day, I know he’s absolutely safe and always an ally. A really good man. And ferocious about it.

We were all in town for the same thing: to see our favorite band in a sold out six-night residency at the Ryman Auditorium. Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit, live in the Mother Church for six nights. It was like a family reunion of people who hadn’t met yet. It really did feel like meeting the siblings you never knew you had because you were adopted and didn’t know they even existed. It was nerves and jubilance and fear that maybe you weren’t the perfect fit you felt like. That maybe you hadn’t really found the people of your heart.

I wanted to make sure that every person I wanted to meet, who wanted to meet me, had the opportunity to find me somewhere pretty easily, so I planned pre-show dinners for the three weekend nights I’d be there for the shows. I wanted so much to put expressions and laughs and voices with the souls I felt like I knew. I wanted to see living eyes behind the fervor I always felt when I talked about music. To meet the people who told me “Yes, you should write. You are as good as any music reviewer from Rolling Stone.” The people who believed in me more than I could believe in myself.

That night a year ago, I was a week from moving out of the house I’d shared with a man I’d intended to share my life with. After 30 months of signing six-month leases because that made him feel safe. After all of that, he presented me with what was essentially an eviction notice in August. And I signed it. My move date was the weekend after the Ryman.

This trip became more than a musical vacation, it was a pilgrimage to look for where I belonged. I was looking for home because I had just lost the only one I ever even considered as real. I knew that losing that home was the right thing and I just hoped that finding my musical family would bring me home again. I had no idea what that weekend would mean a year later.

I get into town and settled in my Air BnB and I head down to the restaurant where we intended to meet, palms sweating and nervous from traffic and being who I am as a person. A few people were there when I arrived and we all wandered over to our table. I promptly ordered a margarita and tried not to be completely out of sorts. I ordered a meal I could barely touch.

Michael brought a capo and a few picks (because you just never know). Michael was one of those souls you just can’t not love. It’s all in his dark eyes: big and soft and a little vulnerable, while still being too sharp to be doe-like. I loved him from the outset, mean it. A good friend and a kindred spirit. He’s “the frost on the trees” just as he reminded me that I was a long time ago. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZKzW-ASP_Y

 Then my Jean breezed in the door, perfect blonde hair streaming behind her, sleeveless top displaying her beautiful, intricate, colorful tattoos, a smile that felt like home. Like a friend you just hadn’t seen in years. Then she hugged me like a friend I hadn’t seen in years. A hard hug. I had that moment people talk about that smashed all the pieces back together. I was fine after that. I knew I was where I should be. She sat down right beside me and I just knew she was one of mine from the moment I met her. Warm and friendly and accepting. The kind of person I thought the musical folks would be. I later descried her as the way my mother would have been if she hadn’t been so damaged and unable to recover from it. Jean is the broken thing that swept itself up and put itself back together better than it was before. She’s strong and a brave feminist. She’s kind of my hero and I love her dearly. Every time I hear “The ghosts that I got scared and I got high with look a little lost” I’ll think of her. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-hP17Rp5JZ0

I knew she lived in Milwaukee, as did Nikola. They were new friends so I mentioned to her that he was supposed to come to dinner and I said “I think he’s interested in my writing.” He’d commented a time or two on my blogs and in our various fan pages when I would analyze a song or an idea. He writes too and has a talent in candor. In what I’ve come to know as a very Jean way of doing things, she turned her head, tilted her chin down, raised her eyebrows, looked over her glasses at me with these shrewd blue eyes and said “He’s interested in more than that.” I must have blushed vividly and I know I waved off the idea. He’d never even flirted with me. We’d barely even really had a conversation. I thought nothing of it.

We got to the show; I found my seat and a large cup of red wine. We saw Amanda Shires open for the band. She’s a tiny hurricane. She is what Shakespeare was talking about when he wrote “Though she be but small, she is fierce.” I wandered out into the crowded lobby during the intermission to see if I ran across any more new faces. I’m tall, I have rather distinctive curly hair, so I stand out in crowd and it helps people sort of rally together. That may be my favorite part about being entirely too big for most rooms.

It was crowded and there were a few people gathered around me, chatting and meeting. I felt a light hand on my shoulder to my left and I turned around to see Nikola. I remember thinking he was taller than I expected, and far more handsome than I expected. And I remember thinking that the room got quiet for some reason. All I could see was him in the golden light of that lobby. All of that in a split second. I must have had quite the stricken expression on my face because his broke into the biggest grin. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. We spoke briefly, but it felt strange to put this man with the guy from the internet and despite the margarita, and the Patrón, and the wine, I felt uncomfortable. I thought maybe it was the wine or the magic of the place, or the way my heart was flying from the souls around me and the music in my heart that caused my reaction to him. I don’t react that way to men. And here I was falling apart from a man. I wanted to get as far away from him as possible. He scared me. The way I reacted scared me. Amanda had sung “Harmless” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IN94D04r_Tw and I was humming it to myself subconsciously, like I do when I’m happy. In more recent months, it seems pretty perfect. "There was a sword in my drink. Everything's a sign if you want it to be. And you want it to be." It was time to get back to the show, so I side-hugged him and he excused himself.

The night went beautifully. The music of my favorite band filled me up, despite being a little broken. I knew that night I’d be okay. The next morning, I messaged Nikola to ask if he’d make it to the dinner that night. He said yes and I said that I’d love to see him again and that maybe even he could sit beside me so we could talk. He didn’t make it. Little did I know, he was just starting to see a woman. He stayed away from me because lightning struck us both and he did what a good man does because he is a good man. He stayed away. But to me, it felt like he just didn’t find me nearly as interesting in person as he did on the internet. I wasn’t surprised. He couldn’t possibly like my writing and like the person attached to it. No man likes both. I had accepted that as how my life was intended to be.

The whole weekend was magical. It was wonderful. Saturday at the show, I met Michelle. For the fourth time that weekend, I just knew. She’s one of mine. Her warm, toast-colored (gorgeous) skin and hair just a shade darker than honey, and big, amber eyes, just glittering. Her honesty and openness were just the things I needed from people. It’s so rare for me to connect so quickly to people. I take forever to warm up. But these people cut past the small talk into the real substance of their lives for me. To be that real is the most attractive thing I could ever imagine in a person. It’s the thing I strive most for in myself. She told me about how the first time she heard “Cover Me Up” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaUCDqWzy1k and heard “I swore off that stuff, forever this time.” To hear stories about people this strong and determined and real and damaged and perfect is what life is really about. She’s one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met. And I love her. I’m noticing a pattern here.

I went to a diner with Missy and Ricky and I had the time of my life at the way Missy laughed when I ordered chicken and waffles that came with gravy and syrup and all I could say was “I’m confused…in my mouth.” We laughed until my ribs hurt. I needed that.

I went home after that weekend steeled against the coming weeks. My people helped me make it through. I did call my Mama and tell her about the weekend. I told her about meeting a man. I told her about meeting my chosen. She never remembers anything, but months later, she remembered me talking about him. I later told Nikola the truth: that I expected him to not be so tall and not so “goddamn good-looking.”

If someone had told me a year ago that I’d feel so brave and strong and capable and beautiful because of one night, I’d have been past incredulous. I sit here typing away with tears in my eyes because it happened. I found where I belong. I found my family, my tribe. I love these people, for they are my people.