How lucky I am to have three homes: one in Birmingham, Alabama, one at Washington and Lee University, and one in the mountains of Sewanee, Tennessee. I am a firm believer that the places in which you have grown up, spent time, and developed close personal relationships with people that have become like family to you, have so much power over how you have come to be the person that you are today. Birmingham: the city where I was born and schooled. Lexington, Virginia: the town that is currently bridging the gap between my teenage years and my adult life. And finally, Sewanee: the town to which I will always return. The mountain view that will forever be engrained in my mind. The summer campfire that crackled as my friends and I listened to Crosby, Stills, and Nash. The place that holds my heart and that I want to share with you, in the hopes that you’ll one day visit and see what I mean.
Imagine a view. From the edge of the bluff, Lost Cove stretches its wide, tree-filled expanse infinitely far until it disappears into the horizon. At daybreak, the fog shrouds the cove’s carpet in a mysterious whiteness, impenetrable until the sun’s rays seem to miraculously disperse it little by little until at once the shocking greenness again reveals itself and its beauty. In the brightness of the dazzling daylight, you can see the field that my dad often combs over, searching for arrowheads, the remnants of times long past but still present within the land that is and surrounds Sewanee. You can see the birds that dip into the trees and seem to be sucked away indefinitely until they emerge again. At dusk, the oranges, pinks, and deep reds that fill the sky ease themselves across the tree line, guiding the sun back to its nightly respite. I grew up watching the changes that the passing hours brought to the landscape, sometimes sitting on our porch, playing cards with my dad, or laughing and making memories with my best friends.
Imagine a girl, arriving in town to work for the summer, knowing her peers only by name and anxious that she’ll spend eight long weeks alone. My first day of work in the small cafeteria at the Monteagle Sunday School Assembly, I was in panic mode. Not knowing how to chop onions without crying, how to crack a dozen eggs for the cookies I was supposed to make, and, to top it all off, not knowing how to interact with my adolescent coworkers was a little less than horrifying for me. However, these people, who, along with their close friends, have now become (and so quickly became) my best friends, took me under their wing. After less than a week of living there that first summer I spent in Sewanee, I was beginning to feel at home.
The endless days spent at Lake Dimmick, the sunsets viewed at Proctor’s Hall, the nightly car rides to the Monteagle Sonic, and the memories filled with laughter and, so often, our favorite songs always stay with me while I’m away. The three summers, the winter breaks, and the random weekends that I have spent in Sewanee, Tennessee make that place home. The people, with whom I have spent night and day but have only known for three years, have led me to become more understanding, more patient, (more fun), and most importantly, more me. They are the people that I want to be around me when I am at my best and at my worst. The mountains, the winding road to Lake Cheston, the Kangaroo gas station on Route 41, the Sewanee Market, Shenanigans, that unforgettable Sewanee sunset and the people that took me in and let me pretend to be a Sewanee local have all played a role in shaping me.
Sewanee, you have my heart, and you’ve changed my soul for the better. I cannot wait to be back in the little town that I call home.
