I Left Nashville… But Not Really

There’s a version of me that still lives in that same first apartment I moved into when I moved to Nashville in 2005, right on Music Row. She’s ordering queso, chasing a story, saying yes to everything, and trying to outrun something she doesn’t fully understand yet.

And then there’s me now. Quieter. MUCH More intentional. I’m still chasing good food… just not at the expense of myself.

I didn’t leave Nashville.

I just stopped trying to prove something there.

Turns out, home isn’t a place. It’s something you build.

Right now, home looks like:

~cutting fringe into thrifted tees on our new patio in a real house

~pouring candles in a kitchen that finally feels like mine

~a cat named Jasper keeping watch at 2 AM like it’s his full-time job

And somehow… this version much feels closer to the truth than anything I was chasing before. I’m still telling stories. Still finding the best bite on the table and micro organizing and analyzing the “last bite” in my brain while chewing.

Still, always, building something. Just doing it in a way that finally feels like ME.

🪩

Stay Queso’d,

Delia Jo