“Welcome to Tennessee, honey.” The Nashville clerk said as she handed me my new plate. And there was something gratifying about this official transaction, erasing the hour spent in the DMV. Maybe it was because it was me, myself, and I tracing my steps from the North in my head as I stood there… Those southern roads will see no evidence of my New York roots until, of course, they hear me say “you guys” instead of “ya’ll.” Because, you guys, she wasn’t rude about it at all. To be continued..
…. Continued notes from Nashville
“Don’t you ever want to get in your car and just go?” She said. And it wasn’t until I heard this, I realized how much travel time I’d shared with strangers. Sure the Manhattan skyline spoke to me, it was loud and forceful unlike this one beside me. But it was also overwhelming at times – RARELY QUIET and distracting – often, it would interrupt me. I shared conversations with those on the sidewalks, subways or taxis. So when I did get in my car that night, I swallowed this moving solitude on my drive home. Every bit of it. I witnessed the untying of my thoughts dancing around me, coloring the sky, while I drove straight on this highway. I even passed my house, looping around the block until all were seated. Because I could…. I could just go. (at I-24 W)