Soft Life, Hard Lessons: The Art of Showing Up

The Evergreen Echo

I recently had a deep conversation with a close friend about grief—specifically how heavy death anniversaries and birthdays feel when you’ve lost someone you love. When you care about someone carrying that kind of weight, you pay attention.

So I made a bold, leap-of-faith decision: I moved my flight to Atlanta up by 15 days. Honey, yes, I really did. I wanted to be there seven days before that difficult milestone to hold him through the heaviness rather than send a text from thousands of miles away. He was deeply appreciative.

The Outfit Audit & The Petty Sign

The three days before my flight were pure suspense. I photographed practically every outfit I owned and sent them to my sister in New Orleans for a real-time fashion audit. Her verdict? "Ma’am, make sure you are flawless. First impressions are EVERYTHING!"

With my carry-on packed and my checked luggage secured, I was ready. But the real star of this journey was the sign.

During our FaceTime calls, this man had the nerve to tease me about being a catfish because I apparently looked like "ten different versions" of myself. Sir. I call that versatility! Hairstyles, makeup, clothes—I contain multitudes. So I opened Canva and created a poster board featuring a duck wearing sunglasses and holding a red book with his name on it: Not a catfish. Not a decoy. Just the real thing. You owe me an apology.

That sign had a journey of its own! TSA wouldn’t let me carry it through security, so it went through the conveyor belt and came out with a smudge. A wonderful flight attendant eventually let me switch seats so my precious poster could ride safely beside me, and at my San Francisco layover, I wedged it against the airplane window. Two suitcases, one ridiculous sign, multiple airports… worth every second.

When he saw me at Hartsfield-Jackson, smiled, pulled me into a real-deal hug, kissed me, and grabbed my bags, virtual dating officially became real life. And yes, he smelled sooo good!

When Access Becomes Vulnerability

There was another layer to those four days that stayed with me: access. Real-life access. He offered me the choice of his truck or Camaro, gave me the code to his house, and when traffic had him stuck, he trusted me enough to arrange for me to pick up his son from school. I brought him home and ended up doing homework with him while his dad went to get me Chipotle.

Then came what I now lovingly refer to as the Chipotle Advocacy Moment. While picking out corn salsa and pico for my burrito, a worker told him that steak was expensive. This man looked at him and said, "Get your hands off her steak." I was crying-laughing! But underneath the comedy was something meaningful. He trusted me in his home and with his son, giving me access to pieces of his life that aren't offered to everybody.

During a moment of grief, I held his hand while he cried and reflected on his daughter. Such a tender moment, not to be taken lightly.

He also started teaching me football, breaking down plays and inviting me into his world. Then he got me watching television! He introduced me to Lioness and Suits, and now we watch them together. We’re on the exact same season of Lioness—which feels like a relationship miracle—though I am eight seasons behind on Suits.

The Evergreen Echo

When Care Shows Up in the Details

Being with him felt remarkably safe. He held my hand during the drive while we caught up, and when we ate, he fed me bite-by-bite. When my salmon arrived at Chili’s looking like it had been cooked during a drought, he encouraged me to send it back. Sometimes the soft life isn't a grand gesture; sometimes it’s a man saying, "Send that dry fish back."

Over four days, we experienced quiet moments, time with friends, laughter, and even a horror movie. I am NOT a horror girl, yet there I was holding his hand in D-Box motion seats watching Insidious. And I have to admit, the movie actually slaps! It had real context and a backstory, not just mindless gore.

By Day 4, I looked at him and said, "Look, you’ve got enough data over these last three or four days. So what are we doing?" The answer was mutual: we loved our time together, the physical chemistry was undeniable, and we both wanted to continue dating intentionally.

Some Things Belong in the Vault

Then I met his mama and his son! What began as an impromptu introduction became a warm, hour-long conversation. His mother hugged me twice and asked, "When are you coming back to Georgia?" His son gave me a high five. My heart was completely full.

I’m also learning to receive care. I love a gentleman who opens and closes my door every time, especially when I’m wearing red suede flats and navigating a slippery GMC floorboard. After years of proving I can carry everything, it feels good when someone says, in his own way, "I’ve got it."

I don’t need to announce every beautiful thing. Some blessings need room to breathe. So this one is going straight into the vault. Maybe I won’t announce an engagement; maybe I won’t announce a marriage. Some things are simply better lived than broadcast. My hands are steady, my heart is full, and for now, I’m enjoying this man quietly.

Because not everything sacred needs an audience.