LifeInLooseNotes.com

I remember first hearing this song after I had left my small college town in Greenville, NC. I was settled somewhere new, technically moving forward, but still carrying the weight of what I’d just stepped away from. The song didn’t remind me of a specific moment, rather it reminded me of a feeling I couldn’t quite place.
It felt nostalgic in a way that surprised me. Not for a single memory, or even a particular version of myself. But for a stretch of time that now felt blurred around the edges. A season that had already ended before I realized it was. Listening to this song felt like missing something without being able to name exactly what it was. That’s what the End of Beginning captures so gently. It doesn’t dramatize the past or cling to it. It acknowledges that sometimes you don’t understand the shape of a chapter until you’re standing outside of it. By then, all you’re left with is the feeling and the strange comfort of recognizing it.
Leaving Greenville felt like moving forward, the way leaving often does. At the time, it didn’t register as an ending, just a step into whatever was next. It wasn’t until later hearing this song in a completely different place, that I realized a door had quietly closed behind me. That’s the strange thing about certain seasons. You don’t miss them while you’re in them. You miss them once they’ve already softened into a feeling, once the details blur and all that remains is the sense that something meaningful passed through your life without asking to be marked. Listening now, the song doesn’t pull me backward. It simple reminds me that beginnings and endings rarely announce themselves. Sometimes they meet us later, disguised as nostalgia, asking only to be acknowledged.
For now, that’s enough.
I’ll keep listening from the in-between.