House of Hawthorne

Posts Tagged ‘why

My friend from college just asked me in response to my recent post why I moved to Kentucky. And I need to remember because it’s one of those weeks, you know. I need to count my blessings for a moment. Bear with me if you hate my “relationship” posts.

The reason I moved to Kentucky is because my boyfriend and I stole his best friend’s four-wheeler one day.

As soon as we got to Kentucky we started drinking what may or may not have been moonshine, and mornings after nights like that are when my boyfriend and I have the most fun, I figure. Do we have drinking problems? Sure. Do we have a blast? Constantly. Sorry, everybody that knows us well and worries about that aspect of our lives. It is what it is, as he would say.

So anyway, we wake up and there’s another gallon of alcohol and four-wheeler keys on the counter. How nice of Blake, we thought and just went. As is typical in our relationship, it was my first time on a four-wheeler and his 87,000th. We rode through a field of cows, visited old family friends of his, went to revel on the pebbly coast of the lake. He showed me where he grew up, he told me his stories, and I fell in love with him all over again. He has such a command and sense of presence everywhere he goes, but we were in the place he knew better than any other on a vehicle he could drive like a professional. Let me tell you, that kind of deep-seeded competence is as hot as hell.

It wasn’t a perfect day, of course. It’s us. We drove deep into the forest and broke the four-wheeler. Up we walked, a couple miles, for tools. Back we walked, and had a super hard time finding it. He fixed it, as he does (I don’t worry about things breaking anymore, at all), and started it up. Out of gas. Back and forth we went, exhausted and thirsty. (I wonder if alcohol de-hydrates you or something. Nah.) We almost got ran over by a pick-up truck. I wasn’t holding on well enough for a particular wheelie and fell off the back. And it turned out Blake hadn’t left the keys as an invitation for a joyride, so he got pretty mad. For a few months.

But at the end of that day, as I know at the end of every one still, there is no one else I’d rather be clinging on for dear life. That makes me sound kinda bad actually. Let’s say, be next to. So when he told his uncle the reason we were down was he was trying to get me to move to Kentucky with him, I was stars in my eyes, head-over-heels, ready to go wherever he asked.

That and rent is super cheap. Move to the South, people. You can still make art and music and work jobs and whatever.

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