Sunday, July 19, 2009

Iron and Wine induced nostalgia..

Belmont Blvd. was the most traveled road I followed on my journey through Nashville.

I can clearly remember my last run on that road before I moved to Korea:

The air was so saturated with springtime that sunshine and warmth pleaded to peek through the January mush. I gulped in the weather as I tried to trace all of my previous running paths: back and forth around Bongo coffee, tasting my last glass of Shiraz on PM's patio, and forcing my tired legs up the hill leading to Belmont's parking garage.

Pausing...

I walked to the edge of the garage, and I climbed up on the ledge overlooking Belmont's campus. People drifted in and out of my mind much heavier than as they had drifted into and back out of my life.

(Moments can often drag on like waiting for Christmas)

Danielle was picking up the last pieces of my furniture, and I needed to make my way back to my apartment.

Soon it wouldn't be my apartment anymore.

Not that it mattered.. it was just two rooms, fixed together by nails. Yet, that framework still encases many pieces of my heart.

I had to say goodbye to love in my living room...
I fell in love where the kitchen tiles connected to the carpet...

My heart still feels drippy with nostalgia when I think of all the amazing memories that that street invoked in to my life.

I can't help but to remember certain pictures:

how the pineapple popsicle bit into the nerves of my teeth on the side walk,
how my little car smashed its nose into another while turning a corner, the thick, hot Nashville summers, fingertips pressing into the centers of my palms in tree lit backyard, a lonely Thanksgiving stroll where the houses smelled of green beans, cinnamon, and coffee, running through raindrops so fat that I was blinded, stumbling home from the combination of Shiraz, dark chocolate, and laughter far too loud for the bible belt, New Year's morning and talking in my bed the entire day, having friends help me pack up my car and locking 2123 Belmont Blvd's apartment door for the last time...

***

Sometimes I speak the names of loved ones into the wind that passes me. It is my hope that the love from my heart is powerful enough to project my words over the miles and miles that separate us.