At the time I couldn't explain it to anyone, least of all my very sweet boyfriend at the time, Adam. How do you explain to someone you have such tender feelings for that despite your deep affection for them, you know deep in your heart that they are not the one for you? How do you set aside all of the moments you shared, the intimate late-night conversations, the times you laughed so hard you were both crying, the adventures, the sweet, whispered, hopeful words no one else will ever hear? How do you leave a home that you love, a job that has come to define you, and friends you never knew were missing from your life but who you desperately needed?
***
I left Connecticut in January of 2019. All of my belongings fit in my car--a teeny little Nissan Versa. I'd had a phone interview about a job in Virginia that had gone really well, but no promises, no certainty. My mother once said that I am like a circus performer. That I keep shooting myself out of a cannon and the net always sort of appears to catch me. I ended up getting the job in Virginia.
Ironically, two years earlier after I graduated from SVU, my mom and I had taken a little trip through that area. We'd gone to the caverns in Luray and afterward, standing in the parking lot and looking down on the charming little town, I said, "I could see living here some day..." and she said, "Yeah, me too." Two years later, whether by coincidence or fate, we were living there together. She and my dad had separated (though neither of them really knew that's what it was at the time), and she helped me run the inn for almost a year.
At first I'd been running the Inn with my BFF, Kelsey. And even though I LOVED having her there, the innkeeping life wasn't for her. And I don't blame her--it takes a lot of getting used to. But it was fun while it lasted.
When Kelsey left, my mom came, and together we worked on the Inn--fixing anything and everything we could, doing projects in the yard, decorating for holidays, trying out new recipes. We took pictures of sunsets and flowers and watched rainstorms from the porch.
We were the perfect team in the morning--I could cook and listen to my music in the kitchen while she served and schmoozed with the guests--an almost annoyingly chipper morning person. We went on long walks, hiked waterfalls, rode horses, kayaked the Shenandoah, and daydreamed about owning our own inn someday.
In the evenings, when enough work was done (it was never completely done--always something more to do), I'd make dinner and we'd watch movies, or I'd read and she'd work on one of her diamond dot projects. We went to dopey town events, including a demolition derby, which was actually super fun. We met so many kind, beautiful people (and others that were not so great).
For a long time I still felt like I was in recovery mode. I still pined for the life I'd had in Connecticut and the experiences and people I'd left behind. But looking back on these moments, I can see that I was exactly where I was meant to be.
It was also during that time that I met the sweet, complicated, incredibly creative and interesting man I've now been dating for almost 2 years--Daniel Hinkle.
We have been through so much in a short amount of time. After 9 months of long-distance dating, he took the leap to move down to Luray just so we could be together. And then when the Inn began to shut down only a month later, he was patient and supportive as I figured out my next moves.
They say you can tell a trees life by the rings--not just how long it's been alive, but the years that were really productive and stimulating, when the rings are further apart and the tree grew fast, and the years that conditions were difficult and the tree went into a kind of hibernation. 2020 was a hibernation year for me. I almost completely shut down and went into a kind of survival mode.
Danny was there for me as I struggled through some pretty tough disappointments--not getting into grad school, my parents' divorce, the loss of my job (and place to live, since I lived at the Inn). And I was there for him when we both got COVID and he was so sick he didn't get out of bed for a week. He barely ate or drank during that time, and he lost 15 pounds. We were both scared, sick, and isolated, but we had each other.
Miraculously the dumpster-fire of 2020 brought us closer together than a normal year ever would have. And then, in the still-wintry days of February, a new opportunity arose, and within the month we were moving to Maryland. Today marks 1 month of being in Boonsboro, MD, and I want to start a new blog about my life & adventures here, but I just couldn't do that until I closed out this blog officially--to say how much I loved my time in Connecticut, how I felt more myself there than anywhere else I've ever lived, how the people I met and the experiences I had have forever changed me, and how grateful I am that even if it was only for a short time, I am grateful to have once been the Belle of Bevin House.
