Dear Country Music,

As I listen to my all time favorite Brad Paisley, I realize suddenly that I am listening to country music! I have returned to it from a stage filled with Jack Johnson/chill/type music (except for the two times I have gone running, and that was filled with Rhianna and other rap stars.) Yes, I have returned. My last encounter with country music was as I was unpacking in my new flat and wanted to cry because I longed for all that country music sings about. I shut you out of my life for a bit, but honey, I have returned. And with an ode, to boot! (I have gotten a lot done on my to-do list, so my reward was to write this ode, as silly as it may be!)

Dear Country Music:

We were both young when I first heard you. I was litty bitty listening to you on the radio buying Alan Jackson’s greatest hits, jamming out and pretending to be way down yonder on the Chattahochee. Dancing to Tim McGraw with best friends, barbecue stains on our [monogrammed] white t-shirts, yeh something like that. Our fun continued, from the classics to the nasal-y Rascal Flatts where we dreamed of fast cars and freedom. Life moved on from sweet home Alabama to North Carolina and then…

My husband said “Let’s move to London. I’ll be the prince and you be the princess…baby just say yes!” I said, “I was born country, there is no way! This is where I want to raise my kid, just like my mom and daddy did.” But alas I’d a had to miss the dance and didn’t want to be standing outside the fire, missing out on a once in a life opportunity. So country radio I did leave.

Unpacking my bags with sirens and car horns blaring, I longed for a small town Saturday night. Some here say I might have my lipstick on a little too bright. And I’ll substantiate the rumor that the English sense of humor is drier than the Texas sand. I missed the friendliest people […] you’ve ever seen. And well it is cold over here, and I swear, I wish they’d turn the heat on. I shut you out country music, and turned to moody John Mayer. And then one day, when the sky is blue, I returned. And I’m going to love you, like nobody loves you. Oh, country music, You know I love my chicken fried, cold beer on a Friday night, a pair of jeans that fit just right, and the [country] radio up. But for now I will learn to love my meat pies, dark, warm lager at noon on a Wednesday, and a pair of Wellies that keep me dry, and my iTunes turned up to my dear friends Tim, Kenny, Brad, Keith, Taylor, Johnny, et al.

xoxo,

wakeforestmama

PS: I can't figure out how to share this song with you but check out Jerry Jeff Walker's London Homesick Blues for a fun, hilarious country song about, you guessed it, London!

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the most "country" picture of me i could find. also the worst picture of me. but if you made it this far on this post, i guess you can see it!