This is the final part of a four part Story. Access Part I, Part II, or Part III here.
For an organized Table of Contents to The Island Chronicles, click here.
“If people refuse to look at you in a new light and they can only see you for what you were, only see you for the mistakes you've made, if they don't realize that you are not your mistakes, then they have to go.”
~Steve Maraboli~
Standing in the middle of the living room of our beloved WNC cabin, I accepted the realization that everything about my life had just changed, and fully comprehended what was about to happen................I was about to leave WNC. But just picking up and moving back to Virginia while I had a so called career, and Marcelle was still intent on departing for Africa with a bun in the oven, was not so simple of a task. After all, just days before she found out we were having a baby she had put in her notice to resign from her job, which meant her health insurance could not cover the cost of the pregnancy...................our timing always was impeccable. I figured this bought me some time to either convince her we had a beautiful life and it didn't need to change, or establish firm roots in WNC to at least have the baby in the mountains before inevitably returning to the homeland to raise our children. My job was a fundamental piece to that equation.
I knew in my heart that Marcelle had very little intentions of raising her children anywhere but her hometown of Charlottesville. But I had envisioned another kind of life. I conceptualized a life where our children grew up surrounded by the beauty of WNC and partook in the same lifestyle we had become accustomed to living. We would continue to explore the mountains and valley's that surrounded our cabin, but we would do it with little rug rats strapped to our back. Our boys would be raised understanding the beauty of the mountains, the secrets of the rivahs, and the genuine and TRUE life that we had discovered in the gorges of the one home I ever knew..............I still spend days wondering what our life would be like if we had stayed in WNC to raise our children.
“You see, the what ifs are as boundless as the stars.”
~Sally Gardner~
As the details of our future began to work themselves out throughout a frantic late fall and early winter, I learned to adore Marcelle for the strength she was presenting. We met with our doctor, another key component to my hopes that we could stay (Marcelle loved her doc in Asheville), and were informed that Marcelle and the baby would be safe and healthy traveling through Africa during the first trimester of the pregnancy..................I am pretty sure our doc was a hippie, so in hind sight I question this piece of advice, because if there is one rule I have learned in this life, it's when making immense life decisions, listening to a hippie is never a wise choice. But we did, and the great African adventure was a go. At the time I guess I didn't realize that while Celle was "discovering herself", I was continuing to do what I had to do in order to make sure our family survived............although survival is a relative term depending on how you were raised, but that is a subject for another time.
Over the Christmas season of 2007, Marcelle, our dog T, and I rambled back up I-81, winding our way north along the spine of the Shenandoah Valley, passing the mountains and valleys and rivahs that I had come to love. We were headed to Charlottesville for a very secretive Christmas season, one in which the TRUTH about our little surprise was not to be revealed to the family until Marcelle's return from Africa in late February. The deception that I was told to present probably should have raised some red flags, but I knew that it was not a deception that Marcelle had chosen to create...............it was the way her mother wanted it. I remained quiet throughout the Christmas season, and Marcelle's extended family, as well as my parents, were not made aware of what I felt to be very happy news.
“Never hide things from hardcore thinkers. They get more aggravated, more provoked by confusion than the most painful truths.”
~Criss Jami~
“Never hide things from hardcore thinkers. They get more aggravated, more provoked by confusion than the most painful truths.”
~Criss Jami~
I clearly remember the drive north from Charlottesville to Dulles Airport the day before New Year's Eve in 2007. I remember that we slipped through the back roads, staying off the interstate for the first part of the drive, not because we had to, but simply because we wanted to enjoy the beauty of the valley and take it slow. We enjoyed each others company as we watched a beautiful sunset over the Blue Ridge mountains that held so many memories to the story of Marcelle and I. I remember that the sky turned purple, pink, and turquoise, and I remember how happy the artistry of Mother Nature always made Marcelle. I remember that when we took long drives like that I would hold Marcelle's hand while we drove, sometimes for so long I would forget that my fingers were interlocked with hers. I remember watching her sleep next to me, and thinking that although I was proud of how brave she was, I was going to miss her and was disappointed that she wanted to proceed on her great life adventure alone, without me by her side. These were all thoughts I never told her, because I loved Marcelle, and I wanted to support her dreams the way she saw them play out..............I guess that is the hard thing about love. It is two lives intertwined together, like the fingers of two people holding hands. Sometimes you have to let go and follow your own dreams, and sometimes you keep holding on, while watching your own dreams brush passed like a stranger in a crowd. It is funny how love works, and how the choices we make impact so much about our lives, both together, and apart. I gave Marcelle one final kiss in the lobby of the airport, and then watched her walk away, carrying our unborn son, on her way to discover her own adventure deep in the heart of Africa.
“You endure what is unbearable, and you bear it. That is all.”
~Cassandra Clare~
I returned to Asheville the next day, and remember that I embarked on a paddling trip down The North Fork of the French Broad on New Year's Day of 2008, feeding the hunger of The Epic Worthlessness that was Man...............a hunger that always began to well up inside me every time I was separated from Marcelle. I clearly remember returning home that evening and watching the news. During the broadcast I vaguely listened to a report about Little Bush cutting the Mental Health budget for the New Year. I recollect thinking how little sense that made considering he was basically still using a blank check to fight a pointless war. The next morning when I showed up for work I was laid off due to those cuts....................our timing always was impeccable.
I returned to Asheville the next day, and remember that I embarked on a paddling trip down The North Fork of the French Broad on New Year's Day of 2008, feeding the hunger of The Epic Worthlessness that was Man...............a hunger that always began to well up inside me every time I was separated from Marcelle. I clearly remember returning home that evening and watching the news. During the broadcast I vaguely listened to a report about Little Bush cutting the Mental Health budget for the New Year. I recollect thinking how little sense that made considering he was basically still using a blank check to fight a pointless war. The next morning when I showed up for work I was laid off due to those cuts....................our timing always was impeccable.
Let's just say I did not handle this news well......................I returned home and clearly realized the situation. I was unemployed, with my job being the only real weight I held to remain in WNC as well as our only source of income for what was now our family, and my unwed girlfriend was half way around the world tramping through a third world country with our unborn son, also unemployed....................this was not good. So I did what any logical man would do who was torn between two lives............I let the Epic Worthlessness that is Man guide my way. He told me to pack my bags with a lot of food, safety gear, warm clothes, and bring our dog T, and disappear for a week in order to figure out the future of mine, and Marcelle's life together. I knew I had the best backyard on the Eastern Seaboard to disappear into................so that is exactly what I did, I disappeared.
I had a friend on the outskirts of Hot Springs who lived in a little cabin at the end of a road most people would never dare to explore. The cabin sat next to the French Broad Rivah and there were chickens freely roosting in the tree next to the house. The mountains rose up quickly around the property the cabin sat on, and the rivah snaked delicately through the land, disappearing quickly around the next bend. It was the kind of place that people seek out when they need to escape the world. It was the kind of place you go to in order to find peace of mind.
I spent two days there, simply existing and hanging with my buddy Rich and T. We hiked the snows of Max Patch in hollowing cold winds, and explored the depths of Spring Creek, admiring the icy crystalline patterns Mother Nature had displayed along the banks. After two days of escape I continued the journey, winding through deep back wooded mountain roads, past Maggie Valley, snaking up the northern side of the Balsams on Route 215, following the fabled West Fork of the Pigeon, passing Garden of the Gods and continuing to the top of the WNC world, at Black Balsam Knob. Once there, I parked my car, grabbed my backpack, whistled to T to come on, and walked into the deepest mountains of WNC, disappearing without telling a soul where I had gone.
~Henry David Thoreau~
I spent the next three days lost in the wilderness of the WNC mountains. I don't mean this literally, for I always knew exactly where I was, but figuratively I found a place to temporarily escape the world. This area of Pisgah National Forest is very desolate during the winter months, with few adventurers exploring deep down the spine of Cold Mountain and the Shining Rock Wilderness. This part of the Blue Ridge Parkway is closed off to traffic throughout the winter, even further isolating the hills and streams from the outside world. It is a vast expanse of high elevation cricks and gorges, all sitting above 5000 feet in elevation.
Much of the trip was a blur to me, because I was flush with proper safety gear to occupy my time and assist in developing a plan of action for the jam I found myself in. For three days I simply existed, constantly moving over the same peaks and ridges that Marcelle and I had explored together for the past three years. These were the places where we fell in love, and the adventures we experienced up there were what tied us together. I thought about her and the travels she was embarking on half way around the world. I missed her, and wished that she had been there to share in the solitude that I was experiencing. It is very symbolic of our future that during such a pivotal time in our lives we were as far away from one another as two people could possibly be. I can only speculate on the presence of foreshadowing not only existing in books, but also in our lives.
On the second day it began to snow, so I traversed across Tennent Mountain and worked my way down to the headwaters of the Little West Fork, cognizant of a secluded and sheltered campsite near the stream. While there I crossed paths with the only other traveler I saw within the three days, and after a friendly safety meeting, explained to him why I was tromping through the middle of nowhere during the middle of winter............."Damn" he responded. "That is some heavy shit bro. What do you plan to do?" He had alluded to a key question................what did I plan to do? I thought about it, and then looked up at him and calmly said, "I'm going to do what I have to do. I am going to call my wife in Africa and tell her that I lost my job and there is nothing left for us in WNC. I am going to tell her that we should move back to Virginia because I know that is where she wants to be.".............The fact was, everything that happened was a sign, and I knew that if Marcelle wasn't happy then I couldn't be happy. I realized sitting there with a complete stranger in the middle of the WNC wilderness that I would need to stop fighting the inevitable and accept the direction that my life was going. When I rose from that safety meeting and went on my way, I was 100% positive of what was going to happen.........we would be moving back to Virginia as soon as possible.
I spent the final day traveling towards Shining Rock over a landscape of freshly fallen snow, appreciating every moment of time I experienced subsisting in such a hypnagogic environment. Every tree was encrusted with white, and the air was still and silent. The only sound I heard for hours was the crunch of each footstep I took. I used this time to say goodbye to my home, and to appreciate every moment of the place that had so deeply touched my soul. To this day, I still think about the times I spent up in those mountains, and those ridges still call to me to come back and experience them once again. It is a place that will always hold a cherished spot within my heart.............I still miss the WNC every day.
“I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude.”
~Henry David Thoreau~
I found my car and returned to our cabin very late in the night on the third day. I had been home for about an hour unpacking and re-acclimating to the luxuries of modern society when I heard a knock on the door. I looked at the clock and it was a little after 1am.............something was up. When I opened the door a police officer was standing there with a peculiar look on his face. "Are you Justin Harris?", he asked. "Ummm, yes, but whatever it is I didn't do it." Seriously, that is really how I responded. I was baffled as to why this constable was questioning me about my identity..........then light was shed on the subject. The officer looked at me and stated, "Do you know that you're missing?" He didn't need to say another word. I already knew what had happened. There were only two people on this planet who would be ignorant enough to call the police and report me missing...................my parents. I informed the officer of my whereabouts for the past five days and he went on his way. This was typical of my mother and father, to over react. My parents have gone their entire lives without experiencing very much outside of what they know, so when something happens outside of their familiar bubble of suburban uniformity their first reaction is to panic. It is one of the variables that has made it so difficult to be their son.........and it is the main reason that in the end I have had to conclude that they are too much of a hindrance to my life to keep them in it. On this occasion they had actually searched my phone records and called my friends to try and locate me. When they contacted Rich, who I had been staying with, he told them that normally he would not be concerned because I had a tendency to disappear from time to time, however this time was different. Then he informed them that Marcelle was pregnant............obviously Rich did not understand the incompetence of suburban bewilderment. Not only had my parents now been enlightened to the fact that they would be grandparents for the first time through a negative experience, but it sent them into a complete panic, resulting in nothing more then their own worry for days on end. Had they just let events run their course, everything would have been fine.
“The problem with incompetence is its inability to recognize itself.”
~Orrin Woodward~
The next day I called Marcelle and informed her of everything that happened. During my adventures she had been vacationing at Lake Malawi, volunteering at a chimpanzee orphanage in Zambia, and was now preparing to live at an orphanage for children who's parents had died of Aids in Zaire...........Marcelle always did want to save the world. We decided together over the crackling phone call that I would immediately pack up the cabin and move back to RVA before she returned home from her adventures in Africa. I was heartbroken, but knew that it was futile to attempt to prolong our presence in WNC. We were returning to RVA, and I was saying goodbye to the mountains I called home.
Two days later Zaire erupted into political turmoil resulting in violence in the same town that Marcelle was staying. I was unable to contact her for two days, and I was very nervous about her safety and her situation. She informed me later that she was perfectly safe the entire time, although she could hear the violence from where she was staying. Dealing with factors like these were just one of many variables I accepted when settling down with Marcelle. She was going to do what she wanted to do, regardless of how anyone else felt about the subject. I loved her for her free spirit and courage, and knew it was important to accept her for who she was. In my mind, THAT was what love was........accepting people for who they were, not for whom you hoped they would become.
Over the course of the next few weeks I packed up the house, rented a truck, and moved back to RVA. My friends in Asheville came by to see me off, and I remember looking around the room at them while they were there and being appreciative of the people I had met and the life I had the chance to experience while living deep in the mountains. I knew I was embarking on a new journey now, and my hope was that I could find the same happiness wherever I ended up that I had found with the people who surrounded me in that room...............I am forever grateful for the experience of living in WNC.
“Maybe you had to leave in order to really miss a place; maybe you had to travel to figure out how beloved your starting point was.”
~Jodi Picoult~
My life is difficult these days...........I miss my children, I do not see any way out of the situation I am in, and I have a trail of destruction to clean up that will take time and money before I can ever even consider seeing the boys again. Many people have told me that at this point it is best to just not think about my children, because the heartbreak is unbearable when I do. Those people have no idea how ignorant they sound............my mother and father are two of those people.
I have also been told not to ask the question "what if". "What ifs" are pointless in life, because they force us to dwell on the past, and they prevent us from letting go................well The Island Chronicles are intended to help me heal, and every time I write a piece of this story a heavy burden is released from my shoulders and I am able to let go. So to conclude the story of The Defining Year I am going to enlighten you on the one "what if" I have always held onto............in the hopes that I can somehow let it go.
What if on the night Marcelle had told me she was pregnant I had told her I intended to stay in WNC? What if she had gone back to Virginia as a single mother and I had stayed in our cabin to pursue my passion of paddling and exploration of the WNC mountains? What if we had gone our separate ways?.............would I be in the situation I am in now? Would I be prevented from seeing Marlow, from holding him, from hearing his voice? Would I be financially cornered by a woman who once told me she could do this with or without me? Would the Fourteenth Street Whore have ever even existed? Would I feel like I had no way out, and no way to move on?...............the only thought that makes that "what if" bearable is knowing that if I had made that decision, Quint would have never existed, and that thought is unbearable.
A while back a former friend became upset with me one night and wanted to say something to me that would hurt me. He said that Quint didn't even know me, because he was too young to remember me before Marcelle took him away..........as painful as it is to accept, that former friend is right. But I no longer let it tear me apart, because knowing that Quint is out there somewhere, smiling, laughing, playing with Marlow, and experiencing life, is worth every ounce of pain that I experience, because the alternative is that he would have never existed at all..............everything happens for a reason.
“Realize that if a door closed, it’s because what was behind it wasn’t meant for you.”
~Mandy Hale~
~Mandy Hale~
See ya on the rivah...............trying to let go of all of life's "what ifs". PEACE
