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Roger and I spent the weekend in Boone, NC.  It was a refreshing, albeit short, weekend away from home.  We got to see a few old friends, do a little PR for the book with a signing, and get a little R&R in as well.  It was good to go home.

Even the view from the car puts me at ease. 
I know.  I’m not from Boone.  As most of you know, I’m from Florida.  The thing is, Boone feels like home.  It was our home from June 1999-May 2001 when I was enrolled in graduate school at Appalachian State.  Between the friendships fostered during those years, the vibe of the college town that encompasses ASU, and the beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Boone feels more like home to me than just about any other place I’ve ever lived.  Other than my mother’s house, it’s the only place from which I’ve ever felt homesick. 

Since I graduated, we’ve been back about half a dozen times. Each visit has been short but sweet, usually in passing to or from another destination.  Every time I start that trek up the mountain, leaving the flatlands of the Piedmont for the rollings hills of the Blue Ridge, I feel my blood pressure drop.  The town is still very much like it was over 10 years ago.  Of course, businesses have changed hands. There are a few more chain restaurants on the main drag of town. The university has acquired a few more buildings and there are always some construction projects going on.  But the vibe of the town that I fell in love with over a decade ago remains intact. 

Tree roots around a boulder.
On the Blue Ridge Parkway
We drove by our old house.  It looked like they were doing some renovation, possibly making room for a new renter. The elderly neighbors who lived across the street and kept us stocked in fresh produce from their garden seemed to be gone. We used to exchange Christmas cards but lost touch over the years.  The gardens of the Lovill House Inn where Roger and I used to work part time were still gorgeous.  The new owners gave us a tour.  We drove up to the parkway and visited our favorite old hiking spots. Even in the rain, the scenery was relaxing. 

Another North Carolinian, Thomas Wolfe, famously wrote “You can’t go home again.”  I beg to differ with Mr. Wolfe. You can always go home. Whether it’s to the place of your birth or the places where special memories are born, there are always spots unique to us that make us feel safe, secure, and peaceful.  What feels like home to you?
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