9 Years and 3 Months...

Have you ever been somewhere where you thought to yourself, "This is the place for me?"

A place, where even though no one knows you - you feel like you belong there?

You feel like you've stepped out of the pressures of being a responsible adult and feel like ... well... like you've just entered the gates of Disney World, and the place is closed to everyone except you and whoever you invited for the day?

Belhaven, North Carolina, a small town lies along the banks of Pantego Creek and the Pungo River, is such a place for me.

A typical "Main Street, U. S. A." small town, Belhaven has hosted an annual 4th of July parade and celebration for over fifty years and the Chamber of Commerce brags about it proudly when you stop in at its varnished wood train station built years ago and offers you a free t-shirt leftover from this year's parade.

On the second floor of the historic city hall building, the Belhaven Memorial Museum offers visitors a view of the eclectic collections of Mrs. Eva Blount Way. Gathered in the early 1900s as a means of raising money for the American Red Cross, they include an eight-legged pig, an exhibit of dressed (but very dead) fleas and over 30,000 buttons or varying colors and shapes.

The best known home in town is a grand Southern Plantation - and has a porch that has chairs and ice tea for the asking... is renown for it's Oyster Fritters.. and is oh-so-comfortable... and has a Boat Marina tucked in behind it?

It was 9 years and 3 months ago when I first visited this town. I was on a boat going from a little way south of Jacksonville, Florida and heading north to Oxford, Maryland on the Tred Avon River in the upper reaches of the Chesapeake Bay. This was an experience of a lifetime - over 1,200 miles by boat, where I navigated, minded the helm, tended the docking lines, and arranged places to refuel and overnight.


That first trip, which occurred just a month before the nastiness that took place September 11, 2001 changed the world, was a three and a half-week long expedition proving to myself, that I could be self-reliant, and make critical decisions -

I remember cruising into past the breakwater that protects the town's waterfront from the more than occasional gale-force winds and the accompanying white capped waves... The sky was dark that evening, the threat of an evening shower was in the air and the day's cruise had been a long one - the thought of tying up for the night and having a hot shower and some tasty food urged us along and we speedily refueled, and tied down the boat for the night.


We stayed at the River Forest Manor and Marina... it sounded deliciously off-beat when I read about it in the by now, well worn guidebook...

"Started in 1899 by John Aaron Wilkinson, President of a successful local lumber company and Vice-President of the Norfolk & Southern Railroad, and Italian craftsmen were called in to carve the ornate ceilings, and by 1904, the mansion was complete – with carved oak mantels for each of the eleven fireplaces, sparkling cut glass leaded into windows, crystal chandeliers glittering from the ceilings, tapestry placed above the mahogany wainscoting in the dining room and two baths so large that they included oversized tubs for two..."

The dining room was made into a restaurant and the bathroom's made available to marina guests.

After getting soaked by that evening shower while riding a loaned golf cart down the town streets back from the Food Lion grocery store with fresh bread and vegetables, the subsequent luxuriant shower followed by the taste of a true southern cooked meal (cooked by someone else for a change) soon had me snoring, contently in my berth.

I only had a short stay there the first time - but thoroughly enjoyed the place - and this time - the wind came up, threatening a rough boat ride - so we opted to stay there an extra day - surely we couldn't risk the expensive one-of-kind boat in broad reaches of the river if the wind was howling 25-30 mph.


So I wandered through the empty (of cars) streets of town and visited the Belhaven Memorial Museum, home of Mrs. Way's rather bizzare collection of "things, where I spotted this picture. The woman was Norman Cordon's mother, according to the penciled tag scotched taped to the bottom of the picture - a governess (are there still such things as governesses?), music teacher of Mrs Way's children and oh-so-lovely.

:)


The sunset that night was spectacular - the weather while windy was pleasant - behind the breakwater, the boat was gently rocked that night by the waves and I once again, snored contently in my berth.


I felt ... not only like I was "home again" but reinvigorated and once again .. alive. I don't know why Belhaven does this to me. I felt safe, comfortable, welcomed, and wanted. It was such a nice feeling after living alone at home for so long now and being alone at work for the last 3 months.

Since I got home - I've not felt right... edgy and out of sorts... I blamed it on the time change... but I really don't think so. I think it's nearly time to do something about how I'm living my life ... to move to another place - to a place that makes me feel "right" even if there isn't any reason why it should... and I've no idea what I would do once I got there.