“Gramps? Tell me a story about when you were little…”

I’ve never liked silence. Never have, likely never will. And back then, I was even worse at appreciating it. Even though my increasingly fit hiking buddy is 94 years old now, he laughed when I recently recalled the good ol’ days. Gramps used to escape the indoor gabbing of the womenfolk and retreat outside for fresh air, exercise, and…silence.  This was unfortunate for me, but if it meant I could spend quality time with one of my favorite people in the world, I was willing to try the “silence thing”. The moment we stepped out the door, I was exhausted with the lack of verbal stimulation. We’d only taken a few steps down the gravel driveway when I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Gramps? Tell me a story about when you were little!” He’d pensively look at me, his impatient yet eager shadow of a granddaughter. With a twinkle in his eye, he would ask me what kind of story I wanted to hear. “Sad? Happy? Scary?” After all those years of storytelling, I eagerly blame him for the sense of adventure and wanderlust that has forced me to drive through many mountains and toll roads to an Island that has a gem-of-a-story to tell.

My first night on the road to this sticky OBX island, I stopped in the picturesque town of Buena Vista, Virginia.  Before I even had time to settle in, my beautiful Airbnb host didn’t skip a beat on small-talk fluff. Marie perceptively asked me what I was running from. I was initially offended, if not taken aback. Did a young traveling writer who was moving 823 miles away have to be running away from something? If so, that sounded cowardly, and gosh nothing about what I was doing felt cowardly. But then I quickly remembered something I had jotted down during a recent sermon my Uncle Jeff had shared. Some people get so caught up in running away from something they forget the most important thing they initially were pursuing. I relayed this to my host. It must’ve been enough to comfort her mama-intuition, as she then proceeded to take me to a beautiful bookstore and introduced me to a recently published author.

Looking back, I will miss red-neck Indiana and all its corn husky charm.  The appreciation felt when farm equipment/tractors pull over so you can safely pass them on a pothole-ridden road. The knee-high by the 4^th of July fields of emerald green corn. I will miss driving by the local pig farm and blaming the unpleasant stench on my siblings passing gas or forgetting to shower. I’ll miss calling dad to help me fix a flat on the highway. I’ll miss Mom and her sacrificial hospitality. It’s funny though, I never thought that looking back could help me in going forward. That has honestly been the most important fuel to the flame for my passion in embarking on my most recent story to tell.

 So here I am, looking back while simultaneously looking forward. I sit on a sand-dusted porch, listening to cicadas attempting to drown out the tourist traffic, while little bugs I’ve never seen before bite the heck out of my European-turning-Native American skin. Will you join me as I pursue a “mystery” that Hatteras Island has been sharing with the world for the past 400+ years?  Will you let me tell you a story about when this Island was young?

Ps. In case you’re ever passing through Virginia on your own adventure, here is the bookstore in Buena Vista Facebook 

PPS. In case you want to experience Jesus’s love from a Church family who leads by example and not just lip service here is the Church Uncle Jeff is a part of Sermon Series – Impact Christian Church

PPPS. And finally in case you want to meet the most genuine and gentle kindred spirit of an Airbnb host book Dr. Eason Room in the White Tree Inn – Houses for Rent in Buena Vista, Virginia, United States – Airbnb (tell Marie I sent you)