I’ll be there tomorrow. I’m leaving today.

I’m waiting for the dryer cycle to finish, for that one last trip to the bank, then the gas station, one more walk down an empty road, then I’ll load up the van and I’ll go.

I like long drives. I like the road. I like returning to the places I like to stop, the parks to walk around for a little break, the question, “How long can I resist the Diet Coke’s siren song?” which then morphs into, “Why am I resisting the Diet Coke’s siren song? Whatever it takes to get to where you’re going is just fine, Hopie.”

I always start in that one place and end in the other.

See you tomorrow, Nashville.

Every time I go there I have this sinking feeling in my stomach about hopes and dreams and waking up to the present day. (This is not to be confessed because I’m working on actually believing I can be better than where I’m at right now, but the truth is that first I combat what I’m used to thinking and feeling and then I work on my new script). My husband was reminding me of all the great artists who lived in poverty and obscurity their whole lives and it made me feel better while I unloaded the dishwasher last night after dinner. We’re not impoverished yet, which is great, and the sun is shining on a new day and I love that too. So here we go.

The good news is that this time I’m going just to write some songs and I love writing songs. I’m going in hopes of seeing the trees in bloom, the dogwood and the magnolia and I’m going in hopes that it’s steamier than it is here in Nebraska. I always think humidity will do wonders for my skin- even in small doses.

This is the story of the Nebraska to Nashville pipeline you’ve all read about in the magazines (you haven’t read about that) and how the two places are really experiencing a symbiosis of talent and energy.

Which is why I’m waiting for the dryer cycle, which is why I’m packing up the car, which is why I’m willing to log the miles and practice new thoughts and new ideas and put them on paper.

See you tomorrow, Nashville.