Finding Home

It was a steamy mid-summer day in July. The kind of day that made the highway ahead of your dance in the waves of heat passing through the atmosphere. Charli was stuck in traffic just across the state line just like every other weekday morning for as long as she could remember, and she was already running behind. She cursed under her breath as she noticed a large truck in the left lane ahead, trying to pass a smaller truck.

Her phone rang through the speakers as she struggled to hit the right spot on the screen to answer. It was her coworker, Nelle, wondering where she was as their meeting started 5 minutes ago. This was a “make it or break it” meeting that they’d spent months trying to coordinate and now, she was missing it. As she took a deep breath and hung up, she wondered to herself where that carefree girl growing up in the mountains of North Carolina had gone. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her in so long she couldn’t remember what it actually felt like not to be rushing down the highway, running across the parking lot in heels, changing her pantyhose in the bathroom stall and drinking her lunch as a Slimfast shake every day. She was exhausted. Both physically and mentally. As she continued to creep a little farther up the road behind the line of traffic, she noticed a billboard sign on the side of the highway that said “Life begins where your heart ends.” That was a stupid phrase to put on a billboard, she thought. It didn’t make any sense at all. Everyone knows that your heart is where home is.

Finally, the truck was able to veer over into the right lane and the fifteen or so cars that had been behind him sped past so as to not get trapped again. She made it to the office just in time to see the clients she’d woke up that morning to impress walk out the door. She’d have to win them back. All day long, she kicked herself for not leaving earlier, for not taking a different route to work, and so on. At the same time, a small voice inside of her questioned why she had to feel bad for something that wasn’t her fault. As she stood in the breakroom pouring her third cup of coffee just before noon, she had a flash in her mind. It was her as a little girl on a tire swing at her grandparents’ house. She was laughing and spinning as their big red dog was chasing her long blond hair around in a circle. She looked down to realize she was pouring coffee all over the front of her skirt and on her shoes. She grabbed a paper towel to clean up the coffee drips on the floor, threw the towel in the garbage can and walked towards her office. She picked up her keys, her cell phone and her clutch wallet and left.

A few hours later, she found herself driving to a destination she hadn’t seen in so long—she was going home. Not home to the stuffy little Boston corner 12th floor apartment, but south as fast as her wheels could turn. Barreling down Interstate-81, she had a feeling of deep relief in her lungs but of sheer terror in her gut. She hadn’t been anywhere south of the Boston area in twelve years, since her mother’s funeral. Passing landmarks like corporate farms and state parks brought back memories of the path that led her north all those years ago. When her mother passed, the home she’d known back then was gone and that there was no need for her to be there anymore. Now, the closer she got to her hometown of Franklin, the more she felt a tug in her heart to keep going. The life of fast lanes and deadlines had made her become exactly what she always said she never wanted to be—dependent on money and speed.

She pulled over somewhere in Virginia that night to rest and eat a hot meal at 24/7 diner just off the interstate. She thought of her grandmother’s house again. Though she hadn’t visited that house in over two decades, it wouldn’t leave her mind now for some reason. After an early start the next morning, she hit the North Carolina state line in just a few hours. The smell of honeysuckle filled the air as she rolled the windows down and turned the air conditioner off. As she pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head over her eyes, it covered the tears that she couldn’t hold back. Somewhere between heart beats and her foot on the gas, “Welcome to Franklin” came into sight. Some of the buildings had a facelift but, in its roots, it was still the same old place. As her gas light hit “E” and a light on her dash started blinking, she pulled over to the Texaco and heard a bell ring. It was still a full-service gas station. She couldn’t believe it, but welcomed the familiar face of Ted, the owner, as he came out and pumped her gas. She got out of the car to stretch her legs and took a look around. The sidewalks were bare this time of the day as everyone was either in school, at work, or sitting around on their front porches in the countryside soaking in the morning sun.

After a quick fill up, she got back in the car and realized—she wasn’t sure exactly where she would go. Her mother’s house had been sold after the funeral and her siblings were all scattered across the west coast. It only took a couple of minutes of deep thought to come up with a plan, though. She would go see if that big oak tree still stood in the front yard of her grandparents’ house. It was just a few miles out of town down an old, gravel road with hayfields on both sides. At least, it used to be. She drove East out of town and slowed down cautiously as she got to several small roads that she thought was the right way to get there, but each time, the road signs didn’t seem familiar. She looked for anything she could find that might point her in the right direction. Everything had changed so much. The fields that were once hay were now homes. The big split tree that everyone used to carve their names into to display their love for others was just a memory now. Where was the road? She kept driving far beyond where she knew the road was and turned around several times. Finally, she saw an elderly man walking with a big stick on the side of the road towards a field of cabbage.

“Excuse me” she said, as she interrupted the gentleman’s path he’d laid out in his mind. He looked over towards her.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but do you think you can tell me how to get to Bear Trail? It’s been several years since I’ve been home and I can’t seem to find it! I know it’s right along here somewhere!” The old man started walking towards her car with a sweet grin and said,

“You see that house up there on the hillside?” She looked over to the left and nodded in agreement.

“Welp, that house is sitting on Bear Trail! Well, what used to be Bear Trail. Ya’ see, some years back, a big development company from up north came in and bought off all the fields and croplands and put in these big summer houses.” As Charli raised her sunglasses and tried to shake the look of complete letdown off her face, the old man noticed her dismay.

“What were you lookin’ for that used to be on Bear Trail?” he asked.

Charli swallowed a big gulp of air and said, “Home! Well, what WAS home to me as a kid. My granny and grandpa’s old place.” The man could sense her letdown and gave her a moment to collect her thoughts as he turned and looked over his own field.

“This is the last part of what used to be here ten years ago! I had to fight tooth and nail to save it,” he said. The man went on to tell her how everyone had tried to save their land, but they were no match for the dollars that the investors threw at the town’s corrupted leaders.

“If you need a place to stay tonight, my family and I would gladly let you stay at our place just up the road while you think about your next move.” Charli would ordinarily never accept offers such as that from folks she didn’t know, but she was tired, confused and the old man’s face offered her comfort that somehow seemed familiar. As they drove down a different road, she saw flashbacks in her mind of things like an old store that she used to visit as a child for candy that was now dilapidated.

“Our place is the next driveway on the right here,” he said as she slowed down to turn. A cow pasture lined the left of the long dusty driveway and a rolling hillside with wildflowers lined the right. It may not have been her grandparents’ home, but it sure was pretty. When they arrived infront of the big yellow house with black shutters, a black dog greeted her as she got out of the car, followed by a kind woman with gray and black hair wearing a strawberry patterned apron. She looked familiar to Charli somehow but she couldn’t place who she was. The lady recognized Charli right away.

“Snickers! Where you been?” the lady asked. Nobody had called her that since…Kal. She saw a familiar dark-haired man in blue jeans and a checkered button-up shirt approaching the house from afar as the lady called to him that she found someone he would want to see. She hadn’t seen Kal since they were teenagers, but as he walked towards her, the soft grin on his quiet face beemed through his glasses and she couldn’t help but smile. Her heart already knew what was going to happen, but she’d play it out anyway.

“Charli!” he said as he extended his left arm to her to give her a hug.

“Kal? Is that you! Wow! You’ve grown up!” she said as she hugged around his neck with both arms. The old man explained to his wife and Kal how he’d stumbled upon Charli up the road. Kal told her that there was no road anymore, but that her granddad’s old house was still standing. He offered to take her and show her if she wanted.

“After the girl gets some food in her and rests, Kal!” the woman said. Kal was a farmhand for an elderly couple that needed his calloused hands and strong back to keep their farm going. After supper, she was sitting out on the porch listening to crickets and peep frogs, taking in the aroma of crops, the forest nearby and the evening’s dew on everything it touched. She watched as Kal closed up the barn for the night. He told her to come on and led her through thickets of brush and across empty fields for what seemed like hours. Finally, there it was. The big oak tree that held all of her thoughts and dreams as a child still stood. Being there with Kal, she was finally home.

She didn’t know what the next few days, weeks, or even months would hold. But she knew what she held in her hands at that moment as she sat on the old tire was more peaceful than anything she’d felt for as long as she could remember. That was something worth holding onto!