It
was the first time I’d seen painted lines on pavement in three years. The long
stretch of road that led me off the mountain beckoned me to a life I once
cherished. A mist hung in the air that morning, smudging the horizon, like the
sweep of an eraser over pencil lines. The curves in the road ahead were just as
uncertain as my future back in Atlanta.
They
didn’t know I was coming home. By this point I was the one who went crazy and
disappeared into the mountains. But just as quickly as I had decided to come, I
knew when it was time to go home.
My
explanation for leaving didn’t make much sense to anyone in my family. I was
working at a prominent law firm with the potential to advance. I was single,
but enjoyed the dating scene on a regular basis. I had a chic apartment in the
center of the city.
But
one morning, as I looked out at the crowds crossing the street and the cars in
queue for the parking garage, a gear twisted in my mind and I had to get out.
Something was missing in the city, something I knew I could find outside of the
noisy streets and light polluted sky. Within 24 hours my bags were packed and I
started to drive toward the mountains of West Virginia. I had a cousin who
lived out that way, but I struggled to remember where, pushing back into the
crevices of my mind to imagine the addresses on the old letters we wrote to
each other as kids. I supposed she was my inspiration for coming. All her
letters about country life never left my memories, even after twenty years.
It
took some time before I finally found her. Knocking on the door of a
single-wide trailer led me to Maurry, a grey-bearded old man with a thick
mountain accent. I had to ask him to repeat himself several times before he
finally said “Com’on,” and drove me to my cousin’s farm.
Luann’s
southern charm and hospitality, passed down from her mama, had only grown
stronger since she was a child. I exchanged my business suit for a pair of
dirty-kneed jeans, helping my extended family run their farm and enjoying the
solace of the hills.
I
never much picked up an accent, well, maybe just a little, but they taught me
things about living I could have never understood in the city. They taught me
how to slow down and enjoy life at a relaxed pace. Though work on the farm was
hard and back breaking, no one ever spent time worrying about things they knew
the good Lord would take care of. They taught me that no matter what you are
doing in life it has to be satisfying work, whether that meant working in the
mines or answering phone calls all day. What was important is that you came
home happy about how you had spent your day. Now that I was returning, I knew I
had to share what I had learned, letting people know there is more than the
life they think is enough.
It
was difficult to leave, and I had no idea what to expect or how I would feel
when the skyscrapers and traffic jams came into view. Would I tuck tail and run
back to the mountains?
I
took a deep breath when I saw my first traffic light. It clicked from red to
green.
