A Million Little Pieces Of My Mind

I awakened to the smell of eggs being scrambled. (It's the butter!) Chris had awakened ahead of me and started in on breakfast.

So, while he cooked, I struck camp.

This would be the last time we would have to stow our gear in the trunk, as we expected to be home in St Augustine tonight.

Chris was driving as we cruised along the newly completed stretch of I-40 over the tranquil waters of Marion Lake. The lake, a jewel of McDowell County, was a sight to behold with its glassy surface reflecting the sky above. Marion Lake, also known as Lake James, is a man-made reservoir. It was created between 1916 and 1923 by damming the Catawba River and its tributaries, the Linville and Paddys Creek, as part of a hydroelectric project. The primary purpose of creating Marion Lake was to generate hydroelectric power to support the regions burgeoning textile industry and to provide electricity for the growing demands of the Piedmont region of North Carolina. The lake has since become a popular recreational destination, offering activities such as boating, fishing, and camping, while also serving as a critical habitat for wildlife. Which is all very nice, but we wanted to get home. So we didn't stop.

I was driving as we passed near Savannah, Georgia. We didn't stop. But if you're interested, Savannah was established in 1733! So it's a city steeped in history, from its founding by General James Oglethorpe to its role in the American Revolution and Civil War. By 1969, Savannah had become known for its picturesque historic district, the largest in the U.S., so designated in 1966.

But, what the heck, St. Augustine has a historic district of its own, and was founded over 160 years earlier!

So we didn't stop.

The sun was setting as we hit the stretch of northern Florida that runs from the Georgia border to Jacksonville. I-95 still hadn't been completed while we were gone, so we had to take US-1 and even a short stretch of A1A along the beaches. But, inviting as it was, home beckoned. And so, we didn't stop.

Jacksonville was once known as the Winter Film Capital Of The World thanks to the early 20th century when the city was a hub for silent film production. Both Chris and I had been there many times, though not at the same time. But we wanted to get home, only one more hour! So we didn't stop.

You have no idea how happy we were to see the familiar landmarks of our home town. But we didn't stop at any of them—until we got to my house on Sevilla Street.

Then we stopped.

In future years, I would return to New England again and again, including the several years I lived in New Hampshire. But this trip marked my first visit to New England as an adult. On this journey, I had established a continuity with my childhood; I had proven I could make a long trip without anyone older to make decisions or serve as backup.

No other trip ever would be—ever could be—quite the same.