Southern Soul Quest: Moments of Homesickness

Exploring Solitude

This road trip spanned four amazing weeks, a recent chapter in my life’s story. It was my maiden voyage into solo travel, a spirited step shortly after a fresh breakup. With a mix of excitement and curiosity, I visited seven states and Washington D.C., embarking on a journey that was not just geographical but emotional and reflective.

The initial independence was exciting, a surge of energy pushing me onwards. I relished the idea of self-sufficiency, eager to embrace solitude and immerse myself in new experiences. Yet, beneath the surface lurked loneliness and insecurity from navigating my new post-breakup life.

Loneliness became an (un)expected companion on the road. I expected moments of solitude as opportunities for self-reflection and growth, but the reality was often not the same. During half the trip, I called my former partner. She was someone I could talk to, bounce ideas off of, and listen to for advice. I valued her opinions immensely. When she cut those calls off (rightfully so), I really felt alone.

I enjoyed this trip, for sure, but there were times I felt something akin to homesickness. I wasn’t truly homesick; I didn’t feel I had a home to return to. However, in those moments, I wanted to race back to…something familiar. I knew that the return “home” was bound to be stressful and anxiety-ridden in itself. I let that energy flow into me before I needed to worry about it.

Looking back, these moments when I wanted to rush back to Maine weren’t just about missing a place. They were about needing something familiar to anchor my emotions while I traveled around. It was a mix of wanting comfort and also wanting to explore new things. You can’t have both. There were two big spots where I felt the most anxious to hurry back to Maine: Ehrhardt and Nashville.

Ehrhardt Music

I thought West Gardiner was a tiny town. Ehrhardt makes West Gardiner look like a sprawling metropolis. I arrived after some time with my cousin in Charleston, SC. Her boyfriend told me there was a music festival and I had also booked a “plantation” nearby. I use quotes because it felt more like a hunting lodge uprooted from Rangeley, Maine than a southern plantation. The music festival was well attended. There was just one problem: it was mostly country music and I’m not a big fan.

Well, actually, there was another problem: I felt like an outsider and wanted to retreat to the “plantation.” I stayed for a couple of hours, but after bumping into my cousin’s boyfriend, I did return to my booked lodge. I read some 1970s magazines, walked around the creaky floors, studied a few paintings, and ended the night early.

Everyone was kind here. I chatted with folks selling chicken. Most of my time in Ehrhardt I watched families attend to babies, teenagers roam in packs, and old couples smiling at the beautiful day. It seemed like this was a pretty tight community and everyone knew everyone. I was a foreigner and seemed to attract a few stares.

As I sat in my folding camp chair drinking water, I tried to better understand my feelings. Back home I had a former partner in a shared apartment. I had the last couple of video projects to attend and two weddings before my three-month trip to Europe. I would have to move back in with my parents and rent a storage unit. A lot of that was on my mind. And I didn’t feel single. I was… but it would take months more to adjust.

Nashville Camping

I saw the Parthenon, built in 1897 for Tennessee’s Cenntenial Exposition (more history here). The exposition had many buildings, statues, and spaces built for the occasion. The Parthenon is what remains. Inside is the Art Museum of Nashville and a 42-foot replica of Athena. I explored a couple of areas after paying a ridiculous sum for parking. I felt like an idiot when I walked a few minutes to find considerably cheaper parking. In any case, I explored portions of the city and finally had lunch at Jack Cawthon’s BBQ.

I should have just gone the extra three hours to see Graceland. By this time, I was really aching to get home and felt finished with my endeavor. I’ll see Elvis’ home soon. Nashville is the scene for some folks. It was not for me. First, I’m not a country music fan, as mentioned above. Second, I arrived at the wrong end of the week for the nightlife. Even if I had timed my visit right, I’m not sure I’d have the mentality for dancing. I wanted to, but the weight of an ended relationship kept my dancing shoes off.

I stayed at a small campground just outside Nashville. I wanna say it was the Anderson Road Campground. Anyhow, I spent more time there than in the city. I journaled a lot. I paced my campsite a lot. On my last night, I walked to the nearby Lake Percy Priest. There was a bright full moon that my phone failed to capture. Even the above image, taken at the smallest beach I’ve seen, illustrates the moment half-heartedly.

For a moment, I was totally at peace. A quiet energy settled all my concerns. I looked across the lake and felt a connection to nature. It felt like I was in Rangeley, looking over Mooselookmeguntic or one of the Richardson lakes. There’s a tug of the old world up there, where you feel like one of the first settlers. And despite the lights meeting my eyes from perhaps a half-million-dollar house, I felt a brief call to nature.

And that’s when I knew I would drive from Nashville to Derry, Pennsylvania – a ten hour haul. I made that drive and the last two hours were the worst. When I arrived in Derry, there was disappointment. And I forgot all about the peace I had felt at the campground.

Gratitude and Thoughts

I’m grateful I could take both this trip and my European trip. These voyages happened because I was single, sold my house, ended my video business, and had nothing holding me back. Eighty-five percent of the time I was content or happy. The remaining portion of time I pondered the purpose of my trip or journaled about what I’d do when I was home. My path was unclear. I didn’t know what I wanted to do for work or where I’d live. I thought a lot about my decisions regarding my recent relationship. I knew my one goal was to own a home and some acreage. I just needed a bridge from where I was to that destination. Overall, the trip was more than just a vacation. It was a time of deep thinking and learning about myself. It’s okay to not have all the answers right away.

I’m glad now, knowing that I’ll be teaching again. I would tell Nick from nearly a year ago to not worry as much. Heck, I wrote in my journal “Focus on the present”. I have a hard time listening to my own advice. I should have stayed longer at the lake; that was a happy spot not surrounded by concern and worry. And I know there will be more worry in the future. Teaching isn’t always a cup of strong black coffee, but it surely requires one…or three. For now, I’m enjoying the small things like mushrooms and peppers with my eggs or discovering new muscles with my exercise routine.

If there’s one piece of advice I can take: If it ain’t a hell of a day, it ain’t friggin’ worth it.