I’m missing Seattle today. It hits me every once in a while, when there've been one too many rainy days in a row, or when I know I’m going on tour for a looooooong time.

In Seattle, I had a predictable schedule (by musician's standards) and nice apartment, shared with a crazy cat and a woman who loved me - the closest thing to a standard, adult human being existence I’ve experienced. Sure, it wasn’t headlining arenas, but it was a good life. I was happy.

When the Allen Stone project took off, it caught us all by surprise. I was completely absorbed in the music, the travel, the new friends and connections, and there wasn’t any room, I thought, for a nice apartment, shared with a crazy cat and a woman who loved me. It was all finally HAPPENING. I let my safe and happy life in Seattle drift away.

Whenever I’m back in the Emerald City, I like to rent a car and visit all the places I spent time. I find I drive more slowly by the places where I had my heart broken, or broke someone else’s heart. There’s melancholy, sure, but, increasingly, closure.

I’m proud that I’m as open to love in my life as I’ve ever been, and unafraid to share my art. Seattle’s where I put the pieces together, and it’ll always feel like home.