Tiny Dancer

It was 7:20 A.M. EST, December 30^th. I stared out my window, already exhausted from being up since half past three. Outside, it was still dark with the exception of the twinkling orange runway lights. Fighting back tears, I became aware that this was the last time I’d see Knoxville for a while, the city where my loved ones live.

The plane began exiting the jet bridge toward the runway. The flight attendant already went over the standard safety briefing before we were informed the weather was favorable for Chicago.

Finally, I was on my way to California, and for the first time in weeks, I was surprisingly at ease. I rested my head back against the seat. “I can do this,” I thought quietly to myself.

Then, suddenly, I heard the pilot’s voice overhead. An error message for the ice mechanism on the plane appeared. We can’t take off.

An hour went by while we sat on the plane and let the crew try to fix the error. At last we were given the news: we must vacate the plane.

“But if I don’t leave soon,” I thought, “I’ll miss my connection from Chicago to LA.”

I wondered, “Is this a sign? Am I meant to stay in Tennessee?”

My heart sank.

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For those who don’t know, I was born in Riverside, California. I lived in Moreno Valley until I was four. I have many fond memories of my early childhood there. Trips to Disneyland or the San Diego Zoo with the cousins. Playing in the backyard with my little sister on the jungle gym my Dad built. Holidays at our house where all the extended family gathered. I may have been a tiny tot, but my happiest moments were there.

After, my family moved to Grants Pass, Oregon (Grants Ass, as my Dad affectionately called it). I spent my kindergarten and first grade there. It was a small town, but it was also where I got my first dose of being onstage . I featured in the local daycare’s 12 Days of Christmas Production. I embodied the Nine Ladies Dancing, and man did I twirl my part. Onstage, I felt fearless.

Right before my 7^th birthday in the summer of ‘95, my family moved to Tennessee. Bright eyed and eager for an adventure, I was excited to move to a new place and start a new school. Little did I know how different Tennessee would be.

Growing up in the South but coming from a faraway land, I struggled trying to fit in with my peers. I had difficulty understanding the Southern Appalachian accent, and I wasn’t welcomed by many of my classmates. Southern hospitality did not live up to its name if you were an outsider.

As a kid, I was shy (except on stage), but I remember having lots of friends in Oregon. In this new place, however, making friends was challenging as it was painful. One of my most crushing memories is when I invited my entire second grade class to my 8^th birthday party…and only 2 classmates showed up.

What is it about me, I wondered, that made me different, and made them not want to be my friend?

This unwelcomed feeling coupled with this sense of being uprooted resonated all throughout my life.

It made identifying as a Tennessean difficult, even irksome when people claimed I’m a Tennessean because I lived there so long (insert the cliché Southern saying: A person’s not a car because she stands in a garage, just as a person’s not a Christian because she stands in a church). Whether it’s the dialect, my religious affiliation, or because my family is not originally from the South, I never felt like I truly belonged, and Tennessee never felt like home, but a place to kill time.

If home is where the heart is, then I always knew deep down I wanted to go back to California.

I mean no offense by any of this to those who are born and raised there. Tennessee has many wonderful aspects I will absolutely miss.

Year round the Smokies are equally gorgeous as they are magical. Seeing all the autumn colors blend in the mountains goes unparalleled, as well as seeing synchronous fireflies illuminate the forest in summer (fact: The GSMNP is also the only location in the US that houses synchronous fireflies).

…There are many different tourist attractions to explore….Dollywood (plus it’s Dolly Parton’s hometown), Ripley’s Aquarium, Sevier County Choppers, and more.

…It’s extremely inexpensive to live there. I could rent a 3 bedroom house with a garage for the same price (and sometimes less) than a studio apartment in LA.

…It’s centrally located to so many different cons, where I met amazing people from all over the country (Hello Fanboy and DOTD!)!

….And, it’s where I met two amazing women…my best friends Ashley and Amanda, without whom I couldn’t have made it this far.

Despite these perks, living in this environment had an effect on me. My creativity and talent weren’t being used to their fullest potential. Advancing in a career in this area seemed limited to very few job sectors. Basically, I felt stuck and without hope of imagining a life beyond this.

Then, during this past spring, I finally saw an opportunity to save money and start making my dreams come true.

I realized: I want to be an artist, and I want to move to California.

Motivated by Neil Gaiman’s commencement speech in which he states, “MAKE GOOD ART,” it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, and so…I did.

I started making jewelry and creating different designs in hopes that I can one day incorporate them into my own line of jewelry.

Then, for phase two, I firmly made swift but concrete plans to move to California.

I booked my flight for December 30^th, and everything was lined up…I had a place to stay and future work promised. I’d return to Tennessee for the rest of my things in spring or early summer once I got my feet on the ground.

The plan was set.

That is, until November, one month before my great departure, my entire plan fell apart. Without going into details, I no longer had a secure place to stay or the job I was promised. On top of this, my car was totaled.

Determined to still try, I spent weeks searching for other alternatives, making myself sick from the stress. I hoped and prayed I would have an answer without having to cancel my flight and start over again. Being one step away from losing my dream, I was scared and felt foolish. Petrified, I worried I wasn’t making the right decision to still go.

Everything, however, happens for a reason. I’m a firm believer in this. At the same time I was struggling with this dilemma, I received news that my cousin in San Diego and his lovely wife are having twins. Since my cousin will be deployed, I will be helping out his wife as much as I can until the twins are here.

Not only did I now have an answer for California and getting settled, but I’d be able to help and support my family! I am still so grateful for them reaching out with open arms. I’m also so excited to spend time with them and help out with their cute kiddo (watch out ladies…we have a future super hero here!).

This news was uplifting, but it also reaffirmed to me that everything really does happen for a reason.

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After waiting in line for what seemed an eternity, I finally had a new flight…9 hours later. I wouldn’t make it to LA until 1 A.M. PST. By this point, I was too exhausted to care and too relieved that I at least had a flight for later that day. So I took this opportunity and turned it into a positive…

Waiting for me at the departures curb of the airport were two very important women to me: my Mum and Sis.

Riding off into the last sunset I’d see in Knoxville for a long time, I exchanged my initial hours in the air for time with my family. Like my inevitable return to California, these last moments with Mum and Anna were, simply put, meant to be.

Still uncertain of what the future holds and if I’ll be able to keep afloat here, I’m just excited to see where this new journey will take me. I am hopeful good things are coming down the road…I just have to keep on walking.