I am an introvert through and through. I love silence and solitude and being totally reclusive, blocking out the world and screening my phone calls and reading and writing and thinking, nesting and organizing and never saying a word. If I’ve had a week in which I’ve had too much going on or too many people to interact with, I start to wither and fold inward and shut down.
I love being alone. To an almost alarming degree.
But – and this is a big but – I love my friends. I mean, I really, really love my friends. For someone who, as a general rule, doesn’t like people, I sure LOVE a lot of people. I sure do.
Last night, after seeing one of my new favorites play a show (along with these two, who are also completely darling), I stood outside Café Coco in a circle of friends. It was cold, and I didn’t have a coat on (because I am a dimwit), and it was late. But we all stood there and talked, girls and guys, a small slice of the wonderful people I have met here, laughing and looking each other in the eye – and I felt happy in my heart, and I didn’t let a single one get away without a hug.
And that moment – those goodbyes, those hugs with friends that I’ll surely see within the next 48 hours, those smiles and waves – is burned into my brain. When I moved to Nashville, I wondered who I would love. Now I know.