I’ve been in Nashville for 16 days.

Sixteen days of visiting my favorite places. Drinking my favorite beer. Seeing my favorite people. Talking about my favorite things. Experiencing southern hospitality at its’ finest. Checking out new things that I’ve wanted to see.

Sixteen days of falling into familiar rhythms.

Last week, I went to the baking class at my old community center. The class that I started three and a half years ago because I had a crazy idea of baking with kids. I was just there to connect with some of my favorite kiddos and catch up on their lives and help out with baking if needed.

While we were cleaning up, a kid walked into the kitchen and – without even knowing what we had made that day – asked, “Can I have some?!?”

And, because this is a familiar place and time and person to me, I responded:. “Is that how you enter a room? No ‘Hi! Good to see you’?”

He turned and walked out of the room. Then he came back in and greeted each of us. He asked how our day was going, what we made, and if he could have some.

Then someone shared some bread and butter (because that’s what they made!!).

And that reminded me of rhythms. He & I both have a rhythm for the kitchen at the community center. Despite my absence from that time and space and person, we both fell straight into that rhythm.

There are rhythms in my driving and my work. In my relationships and in my need to be alone. In my frustrating with traffic and my desire to live amongst trees.

Over the past 5+ months of traveling, I’ve missed having rhythms. I’ve tried to establish a few here and there, but everything has felt so topsy turvy and unstable (not in a bad way) that it’s seemed like a daunting task.

So I think I’m ready to find some rhythms (besides making pie in every state I visit and hiking every trail possible).