Homeward Angels

Day 50: Fayetteville WV to Asheville NC

I think I'm over hotel rooms. The dry air, the noisy air conditioner, the stiff comforters and plastic ice buckets have lost their appeal. I will miss being able to veg out to the travel channel or the food network at the end of the day for sure, but ultimately I would rather fall asleep to the sound of crickets than “Chopped”.

We decide to try one more restaurant in Fayetteville before we hit the road, it would be a shame not to. We settle on The Cathedral Cafe, a small church with enormous stained glass windows that has been cleverly converted into a little eatery. And, there is a little bar where we can perch, so we're extra happy. The coffee here is good and strong, and the breakfasts are huge. The staff is super friendly; and as though they could sense our reluctance to get on the road for our last day, they let us linger with full cups of hot coffee for as long as we wanted.

When we finally got ourselves on the road, it was nearly 11:30. We meander through small, impoverished mountain towns, rekindling our connection to the southern Appalachians. We decide that we're glad we're used to the culture of these hills, otherwise the signs like “kuntry kitchun” and the abundant front porch junk yards would have been a shock.

The Gauley River is our guide through most of the morning. We crest hills that send us shivering, then dip back down along side the river and warm up. We have not so much “seen” the country as we have sensed it. Sun and shade have been both relief and torture at times, the force of a powerful wind belting across a sage scented desert is not easily forgotten. I will remember what the air on the California coast tastes like, and that 90 mph sounds a lot different than 60 mph. The bugs in Iowa feel like little bullets, and driving through Chicago is like pulling up to a buffet of everything.

Tiring of the windy, slow going back roads, we jump on the old familiar 81 and then 26 and come in to NC. We stop at the NC visitor center and meet a photographer who had just taken our picture, not knowing we were pulling in. We hoot and holler when we cross in to Madison County, and then, with quiet reverence, pass through the familiar territory of Weaverville, Woodfin, Merrimon Avenue, downtown and finally east Asheville where we will stay in the sweet little cabin being renovated by the Pirate's folks.

Some people say that 'home is where the heart is', or that 'home is where you hang your hat'. For me, home is where The Pirate is. After 50 days of constant companionship, we are more connected, more in love, than when we left. I'm not just saying that. When you are a transient being, like a pirate or a mermaid, there is comfort in movement and change. To find a partner that can flow and drift from day to day and place to place is a blessing for whichI never thought to ask. So, though we have been “gone” many days, and we have wandered many miles, we have been home, with each other, all the while.