The next morning we’re headed to the town of Elkins for coffee. While there we found some really cool street art with animals and rainbow colors. Lots of basic white girl photos are taken. After the photo shoot and coffee consumption, we make our way over to a great little brewery named Big Timber Brewing. While there, I have some serious anxiety. I need to figure out the exact date I plan on heading home as my wife is getting frustrated with me. It’s not fair for me to keep saying, “I’ll be home soon I promise.” I need to figure out a date and start finalizing my plans for a return.
While sipping beer and being anxious at the brewery, we also look for a place to camp for the night that’s somewhat on the way back towards Cleveland. Kelli has to work tomorrow evening. Can’t forget that. We find a free site online, and head north.
On the way north, we end up stopping at Jackie O’s brewery in Athens, OH. This place is legit. Haven’t had a beer here, or in can, that I didn’t like! Kelli buys me the cutest cup with a Blue Booby on it. I am in love! After the brewery, we stop and get some food at the grocery store to cook dinner. Kelli has been bugging me to cook pork chops. She wants pork chops and she wants them now. I don’t want pork chops, but we’re buying pork chops. Fine.
We pull up to the campsite that I found online, and we were all seriously disappointed. There was a homeless camp with a mattress laid up against a tree. A bunch of RVs with old men cutting wood. A full parking lot of cars with people coming and going. No one likes it. But we don’t really have other options. Sarah and I are willing to settle, and find a tiny spot within the shit show of a parking lot. Kelli is pouting. We came to camp dammit! Not chill in a parking lot! Not wanting to deal with a pissed Kelli or this site, we drive away. No cell phone service to rely on, but we did see a state park a few miles back. We hope they have some camping… We drive for about 30 minutes, winding up and down backwoods roads, and eventually found the state park. From there, we fumble around horribly until we actually land on the campground.
Guess what! The campground was adorable! There were many open sites right on the water, bathrooms, fire rings, firewood, anything you could want! We could not find out how to pay though, there were no envelopes or instructions that we could find. Oh well…. Guess it’s free!
Serious note here, I really tried to find out how to pay. It was set up horribly.
We start a fire, cook pork chops, talk to locals, and drink beer we got from the breweries we visited earlier. Such a good night. We set a towel out right away for Arthur to make him hate camping a little less.
The next morning, we wake up somewhat rested and packed up our crap. We drive north and do our best to get Kelli home in time to nap and shower before going to work. Which we accomplished. Thank god because we smelled awful. As Kelli goes off to work, Sarah and I go pick up the dogs from Kelli’s mom. As we are picking up the dogs and begin chatting with mom, one of the pit bulls, Lucy, snagged two huge pork loin cuts from the kitchen counter. Bad dooooogggg. She’s such a counter surfer, and took her shot while mom was distracted.
Wait have I not told y’all about Betty? He’s an 80ish pound sulcata tortoise that Kelly adopted awhile back. Betty got out of Kelly’s house once in Panama City Beach and ran around town for a couple of days. One time, Betty stuck his penis out while making eye contact with Sarah, and Sarah freaked out thinking his intestines prolapsed. Betty regularly tries to kill folks while working in the back yard by pushing his enormous body through ladders or chairs. Due to his tendency to escape and enormous strength, Kelly attached a dog tag to his shell. Just in case.
Sarah and I get the dogs home, and visit Kelli at the bar for a few hours before closing. Man, I wish we were back in the woods over a fire. Breweries are nice, but there’s a huge dichotomy between downtown Cleveland and backwoods WV.
Sitting at Kelli’s bar is great. I wish the beer here was better. I’ve got a few things left to accomplish while I’m here in Cleveland, but other than those few things my trip is pretty much done. Before I leave, I need to paint the pagoda in the back yard, have a family dinner with Kelli’s mom, and complete one more taco Tuesday. I need more falafel tacos. Then, I can finally leave this place and head home.
First, the pagoda. Got to paint that thing and make it pop. I’ve already prepped it, now it just needs a coat of yellow. That was a pretty easy task to finish, but just something my buddies had a tough time completing. I get it.
Next, I need to do dinner with Kelli’s mom, Holly. I met her at Kelli and Sarah’s wedding a while ago. My first experience with Holly was actually intertwined with her sister Caron. And yes, that’s how it’s spelled. Don’t ask. I’m at the wedding grounds, drinking like a guest should be, and Caron picks up conversation with me. Holly and Caron are talking, and they somehow wrangle me into the conversation. And it went something like this. Buckle up.
Caron starts by saying, “My family is from Arkansas (I can’t remember what she said as I wasn’t listening), Jennifer where is your family from?”
“Actually, my family is Greek! My grandparents were Greek nationals but lived in Alexandria (grandma) and Khartoum (Grandpa) in Egypt and met on the boat over to America. Story is my grandma was sick for the entire 14 day trip but my grandfather still fell in love.”
Caron looks at me. Examining my face to see if the story could possibly be true. And then the next sentence fell from her lips, “oh honey, you’re not dark enough to be Greek.”
Holly left me out to dry. She was silent. Thank god Kelli happened to walk by and caught the conversation. She instantly handed me two of those tiny cylinders with crescent roll dough in them and says, “Can you help me bring these inside? I can’t hold all of them.” Bless you Kelli. You were holding 3 crescent roll packages and handed me two because “you couldn’t carry them all.” I love it.
So that’s my first meeting with Holly. Next, was a trip that Holly made down to Panama City with Kelli and Sarah to stay at the beach. Holly made a clam linguine that I absolutely loved. If you know me, I can put down some food, especially when it’s delicious. I ate a shit load and told her how much I enjoyed her cooking. Now, she wants to make me her famous clam linguine while I’m in town. How am I to say no to that? Exactly. I can’t. I go to Holly’s house with everyone and I listen all about their recent trip to Alaska, and eat great food.
The last thing I need to do in Cleveland is taco Tuesday. This is easy. We go to the same place, get the same amazing falafel tacos, then head to Kelli’s bar to feed her additional tacos. It’s bittersweet, as I’ll be leaving tomorrow. I ended up getting hired for the National Park job I applied for, and I’d really like to get back and settle in at home before that starts. Also, I’ve promised my wife many projects that I planned to accomplish before returning to work. And the most important part is getting home to Cas. I’ve put her through enough. It’s time to go home.
In the morning, I ready myself for the journey south. It’s sad to leave this place, as it feels very homey after being here for a week and a half. I pack everything up and start the drive home. Ideally, I had planned to stop at Mammoth Caves National Park. But as the drive dragged on, I realized that I was just ready to be home. I don’t want to stop anymore. So I don’t. The weather is shit so I’m glad to not be stopping.
The drive was a slog. My only stops were for gas and snacks. When I finally pulled up to the house in Pensacola, it was 9PM. Still hot and sticky as Florida always is on a humid summer evening.
Being home feels natural. It takes no adjustment to go from living out of a truck or on someone’s couch to being back in a plush king-sized bed with a bathroom right next to the bedroom. I suppose only adjustments need to be made when stepping down from living conditions, not up. At this point in my life, it feels no different to sleep in my truck, in a tent, or in a bed. What is different is consistently having a safe place to fall asleep, without having to constantly worry about who is going to sneak up on you in the middle of the nigh. That’s comfort. A feeling of security is what I missed the most. And as soon as you have it again, it’s like you totally forgot what it’s like to not have it.
I’m back in my bed, with my wife, with the cats (that sort of remember me) and back to a feeling of security. Or so I thought. The first night home was awful. I heard every footstep outside. Every rustle. I couldn’t turn off my self preservation brain even though I knew I was somewhere safe.
All of a sudden, I hear someone walking outside behind the headboard of the bed. I know footsteps. I listen for them constantly. I jump out of bed, grab the .38 revolver in the nightstand and go to investigate. I turn on every light outside, but see nothing. There’s nothing there.
I lay back down but it will be hours before I can sleep. Still listening for footsteps.
Things got easier over time. Apparently, the key is to sleep with the fan on so I can’t hear every bump in the night. This helps immensely. I start to settle down at night, and trust that I’m finally in a safe place.
