We Are Nashville.

I've lived in Middle Tennessee for the majority of my life, but I've lived elsewhere. Cincinnati, before I can remember. Memphis, which I can barely remember. Then after high school I moved to New York City. That had always been my dream, escaping to the big city. And it was fun, but nothing like I'd hoped. Since I moved back to Tennessee I've been in New York a lot, for months at a time. In the back of my mind I always hold on to that feeling I have when I'm in New York, one I'll surely always cling to. Being there makes me feel alive, exhilarated, inspired.

But it never felt like home.

Middle Tennessee is my home. It's taken nearly a decade for me to feel comfortable saying that I love living here and will be content growing old in Music City. The part of me that wanted to "escape" has died. I don't need an escape anymore.

A few years ago I remember some girl putting her location on Facebook as "Mur-free-me-sboro." And that sentiment is a popular one, especially among young people who grew up here, who want to move on to bigger things. A lot of them do. And a lot of them are better for it.

It's sentiments like that one that make you feel sort of like you're settling if you do settle here.

But this past weekend reminded me of so many things. It reminded me why I am who I am, because I grew up in a town where people ask you how you are at the grocery checkout line and they genuinely want to know. It reminded me why I want Adelyn to grow up in a place surrounded by family and comfort. It reminded me why I love saying I'm from Tennessee when I visit other cities and countries. Tennessee means good-hearted, grounded, and caring.

This flood was a tragedy, one that has been grossly ignored by the national news. Thirty people have lost their lives. More than a billion dollars of damage was left in the flood's path. It could very well end up being one of the most expensive natural disasters in history. And yet it was treated like an afterthought.

It makes sense to me as a journalist. This flood, while tragic, just isn't as sexy as some other stories. Resulting crime has been minimal; the Red Cross has had a huge helping hand from neighbors, strangers, volunteers. Tennessee watched the waters rise and then quickly rose to the occasion, before national media had a chance to sensationalize.

But I have been blown away by local media coverage. I worked at one of those broadcast news stations and I know how it is when tragedy strikes. Everyone works, for hours, days, weeks, non-stop, without a break. And that might be just the way media functions, but I also see it as a testament to this state. When a story needs to be told and people need to be helped breaks are put on the back-burner.

Adelyn won't remember this flood. I walked her to our back porch this past Sunday and let her look at the rushing water approaching our deck, and she stared and smiled. In ten years, if we still live here or not, she'll hear all about the rain that wouldn't stop when she was three months old. She'll hear about the devastation, sure, but more so about the generosity and tenacity of the place she was born.

It's a mantra that's taken over Facebook among my friends, ones who still live in Middle Tennessee and ones who moved on, but it's worth repeating.

We Are Nashville. The country music stars. The politicians who boast "Bible study every week" as a campaign platform. The community of Jews who come together every Passover, Hanukkah, Yom Kippur and Shabbat to keep each other company. The family that created my future husband, a family who's lived here their entires lives and who welcomed me into their homes and hearts without hesitation. The countless people who just lost everything and who are still knee-deep in water helping their neighbors clean up. The conservatives, the liberals, the Bible Belt and those in the minority. The new life sleeping upstairs in her crib. They are all Nashville.

I've never been so proud to call this place home.

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Tennessee Flood.

The Stones River is now ten feet from our back porch. I'm thinking, hoping, that this is the peak of the flood, because the rain stopped late last night and the river has swelled feet upon feet since I woke up this morning.

The journalist in me is soaking in every detail of this crazy, wet, catastrophic weekend in Tennessee. It didn't hit me until last night just how devastating this flood is. Saturday, when we were driving home in it, Erin and I were laughing at our adventure. I wasn't laughing when I got home and turned on the news, to my former employer who has done an incredible job showing the myriad stories that have erupted out of this event. The death toll has risen to at least 11 (the pessimist in me has a hunch this will continue to rise); the flood waters have risen to historic levels; damage is so extensive it will surely take months, years even, and millions of dollars to repair.

I thought I was maybe exaggerating what I'd seen driving around yesterday. As a writer I have a tendency to do that, to retell stories in my head with such building description that a puddle becomes a flood and a spark becomes a blaze. I wondered if I'd really seen water coming up to streetlights in blocked off areas ahead of me. If I'd really seen countless cars abandoned and water rushing into buildings and houses.

It wasn't my imagination.

Jason and I were reluctant to go to sleep last night, because we're both worriers and because we had infant safely snoring in her crib upstairs. The Stones River had grown exponentially since we'd put her to bed. But it was still yards away from our apartment. Just in case, though, we set our alarm for three a.m. and looked outside the window to make sure it hadn't become the Flood to End All Floods while we slept. At three a.m. it was just creeping up to our apartment complex's grill, a good thirty feet away from our back porch.

I can't even see that grill this morning.

We got really lucky here in Murfreesboro. I can skip a rock into the river from my back door, but my loved ones and my belongings are safe and sound. My heart goes out to the thousands who have not been so fortunate.

The best coverage so far has been at WSMV. And I'm not being biased, it really has been mind-blowing. For those not in Tennessee, check out the station's Web site to see images and details from the past few days.

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Stuck Inside.

Thanks to the Tennessee Monsoon we're stuck inside this Sunday, which means closet reorganization, vacuuming, Chinese delivery and lots of let's-try-to-make-Addy-laugh time. She's coming oh so close.

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Rushing Water.

I was thisclose to taking Addy shopping with me in Nashville today. If you live in Tennessee you know why I came pretty darn close to disaster.

I went with my friend Erin (Jason's sister) and his mom to look for shoes for the wedding. And last night was Addy's first night away from home--she stayed the night with Jason's parents. It was a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be, not hearing her snoring over the monitor from her nursery in the middle of the night. But our wedding is quickly approaching--three weeks!--and with it comes two Addy-less nights for me followed by an ENTIRE WEEK away from her while we're on our honeymoon. So we decided it would be best for her first night away to be spent on a night we weren't already anxiety-ridden and preoccupied.

Addy stayed true to form and slept through the whole night at her Janu's, as well.

Needless to say when my alarm went off at seven this morning I was up and out of bed in a flash. I threw my flip flops on with my pajamas and poked Jason until he finally relented and woke up. I was ready to have her home.

I was reluctant to leave her with Jason while we went shopping just because I'm sort of in love with the little girl. I missed her. But I left her at home.

And thank god I did.

If you don't live in Tennessee, just look at this. And this. This, too.

We finally left the mall after a lot of debate because of the weather at around four. And I just got home about a half hour ago. On I-24 headed home from Nashville, we were all laughing when we had to drive through the first flooded area. The second wasn't so funny. Luckily we got off the interstate ONE EXIT away from where someone died within that same hour, trapped in their car from the flood.

We then spent the next three hours navigating through Nashville, Antioch, Lebanon, Franklin, then back to Nashville, then finally we found a relatively clear back road back to Murfreesboro.

When I worked in broadcast news I saw lots of flooding like this in smaller towns in Tennessee. But never, ever, in my life have I seen something like that up close.

Whenever we thought we'd found a route home, suddenly we'd come to a host of cop cars and ambulances with emergency rescue boats blocking off surging walls of water. We'd turn around, try another back way, and eventually find ourselves confronted with the same thing. I was honestly about to throw in the towel and find a hotel.

Thankfully we made it home safe. Tragically, a few people did not.

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