This time of year it’s become almost a tradition for me to post an entry about thanks, whether it’s for a negative COVID test or surviving a particularly challenging year. As I usually write these entries on Thursdays, it’s just seemed natural. I like it and I’m going to keep it up.

Dean and I aren’t the only ones who have endured a difficult past few years. And we’ve definitely come out of 2020/2021 much better than we went in, in my opinion, which has not been the case for everyone. For that I am thankful. This past week I had a unique opportunity to get a fuller perspective on the past three years and it’s increased my gratitude in ways I wasn’t expecting.

When I graduated from LSU (for the second and final time) I had already decided that I couldn’t stay in Louisiana. I wanted a place with acting opportunity, public transportation, and in general I think I needed to ‘go out and seek my fortune’ in the less literal sense of the phrase. I had just finished a year abroad in England and I wanted to get out and see more of what the world had to offer. I moved to Chicago with a friend, basically sight unseen, having only heard great things about it, and that it was very cold. This was exciting to me.

Seventeen years later, the weather had worn me down, the taxes and corruption were a constant irritation that I had no control over, and I was tired of being so far away from my family. Fortune successfully sought, adventures aplenty notched in belt, I wanted to be in a place where I could have a yard, a garden, where I wouldn’t be uncomfortably cold over six months out of the year, and I wanted to be closer to my family. Although we made plans to move for many years, Dean and I finally pulled up stakes in 2019 and made the jump to Nashville, finalizing the move on the day after my birthday, March 17th.

The following day, our entire apartment building caught fire. We were eventually moved to a different unit in the same complex, but without our things for another few weeks. We were lucky that my family wasn’t too far away and could take Jake, that we could drive there on the weekends to sleep in an actual bed and sit on furniture, and that our friends back in Chicago sent us gift cards so that we could buy basic things, having used most over our savings to move, and still being barely employed.

The next year was hard, but we clawed our way up and were both finally feeling financially stable at the start of 2020. We put a down payment on a house—the mortgage would end up being cheaper than rent, believe it or not—and moved most of our things to North Nashville in March. A tornado hit the following Tuesday, fortunately missing our house, but knocking out power in the neighborhood for the week, and giving us a terrifying evening.

Power restored, I had several fitness classes finally lined up at a swanky gym downtown, lots of regular clients at the small studio I was managing, and my birthday was coming up. This birthday would be better than the last, I thought. Then the universe laughed at me. (As it did to so many others.)

The next two years would be difficult, but also transforming. We lost Jake—which still tears me up as I write this—but we gained Aang and Cloud and I learned that my recently cracked heart could yet expand and make room to love more. My fitness business atrophied as I tried desperately to make it virtual—like every other instructor in the world—and the in-person clubs I’d held on to stressed me out as I was forced to go back to on site events before vaccines had rolled out. I threw myself into writing groups as my creative outlet and one of the few places I was getting to talk to people who understood where I was coming from.

I was offered a part-time assistant job at a small publishing company from someone in one of my groups who had kept very quiet that she was a publisher. I did well, eventually got promoted, and went full time. I let any remaining fitness clients and classes go gradually. It was hard to say goodbye to a profession I’d worked so hard to maintain for a decade, but I love where I am now. I love my job and I love that my life is basically about writing and books.

I’m on the cusp of introvert and extrovert, but I fall on the introvert side of the line. I can turn it on and mingle well with groups but I need recovery time afterward to recharge my batteries. I was happy working from home, seeing my writing groups online, and such, but after I gave up my last fitness class in May, it wasn’t long before I realized I was missing contact from people in person. It wasn’t something I thought I needed because it was something that had been built into my life regularly.

A new friend I’ve started going out to bookish events with in Nashville.

Recently, I’ve been making myself go out, make connections, putting myself into places and positions where I will talk to people and make friends. It’s been hard, but it’s been fun. I do have some friends that I see in person regularly.

Last year, we were invited to a wedding to take place in Chicago this November. Since it was close to Thanksgiving, we started making plans. Dean’s parents live in Peoria, so it made sense to do Thanksgiving with his family that year and Christmas with mine. We scheduled a terrifying travel itinerary so that we could drop the cats in Peoria before heading into Chicago. Dean and I were both planning on working remotely in the days leading up to the actual holiday. So I asked him what he thought of me extending my stay in Chicago for a few days after he drove the car back to Peoria. He’d get some alone time with his family, and I might be able to catch a few more friends while working from the hotel, where I’d have access to a gym and Dean and I wouldn’t be trying to crowd his parent’s dining room table together to get work done.

As soon as the dates were nailed down, I started telling people that I was coming. I was pleasantly surprised by how fast my time was taken up and how many people made space to see me on the week before the holiday.

Leading up to the trip, I started making mental preparations for some people not showing to certain pre-arranged meetups, or having to cancel to head home early or to pack for trips. It was understandable, and I didn’t want to be too disappointed.

I was floored by the amount of my friends who, not only carved out time for me, but who were outwardly delighted to do so. My friend Carolyn offered wine and cheese at her place on Monday night. When I got there, she had “gone overboard a little bit” and had arranged a spread that would have easily satisfied fifteen people. And she let me do my laundry at her place. My friend Meredith (no relation) and her fiance Ian met me out at a restaurant near their place on Sunday night. After the meal we were having drinks and I worried out loud that I was keeping them out later than they wanted to be and that they might have other ways they’d planned to finish their Sunday. Ian told me that they have a big calendar at their place that they write down what they have going on each day and that for the past month, the bottom half of November XX said only LYONS. I didn’t get home until well after 11pm.

Several friends met up at The Long Room on the first Friday we got there and Dean and I weren’t able to pay for one drink. Our friend Joe got married that Saturday, we went to the out of towner brunch on Sunday and he asked how long we were in town. I met up with him for lunch on Tuesday. He’d just been married, he’d already seen me, but wanted one-on-one time and dragged his exhausted self out of his comfy apartment to truck downtown and buy me soup during a break from work.

Adam, the artistic director for the Side Project, the theatre Dean and I had been company members of when we left, arranged a lunch for us with everyone in the company we could get to meet up. They all came downtown to a spot near the hotel since we had the wedding that day. Elliott wasn’t able to make that meeting, so he took me out to lunch on Monday and we chatted for nearly two hours before I had to get back to work. It was fantastic to see him.

My friend Patti took me out to dinner Tuesday night and stayed over at the hotel so we could talk until we dropped. We’re never done talking, we just put it on pause. It was the perfect way to end the visit.

People I hadn’t seen in three years were getting married, engaged, growing and shifting among their careers and their personalities. And they all still lit up when we saw each other. I’d forgotten what that was like.

New friends are fantastic and fun, and there’s the exciting getting-to-know-you period where you uncover all the delightful facets of this person that you’re intrigued by little by little, hoping that this friendship has the potential to become lasting. But there’s something about old friends. Where you just fall in. They know all your weird little peccadilloes and don’t mind them. Some of them might even be part of what makes them love you. Friends you can say ‘I love you’ to without worrying if it’s weird or creepy.

It was nice to be reminded that I am worthy of that kind of friendship. That I am a person that people are delighted to see and genuinely want to make time for. So, if any of my old friends are reading this, thank you for carving out the time, first of all, but mostly, thank you for that reminder, that there are people for whom I do brighten the day, just by being me, and that I am worth showing up for.

I know I will find—and probably have already begun to find—those people in my new place who will become part of my Nashville family. The people you can call for advice, or just to chat, and who will show up when they’re needed, but this reminder was a shot in the arm that I needed. To remind me that, not only are those people out there, but the ones I had before haven’t forgotten me. They’re still there. And that I’m still worth it.

Thankful for you.