Last week was rough. It’s hard to describe the surreal feeling of continuing on with our business when so many of our neighbors to the east are waking up for yet another day of figuring out what to do. Your heart aches for them, but at the same time you know that even after deadly tragedy, life will carry on – whether you want it to or not. I learned that lesson fourteen years ago when my husband died suddenly in an accident. I remember the feeling all too well. I was still reeling, and everyone else had taken their required support measures and had started to move on with their normal life. My new existence was nowhere near normal, but theirs marched on as it always had – my loss just a blip in the day-to-day. It felt unfair and grounding at the same time, but I still didn’t like it.
And last week, as our business opened as usual to welcome what guests would venture into the “green-zones” of western North Carolina, I had a weird feeling in my stomach about it all. There was a keen sense of awareness that somewhere out there, there were people still struggling while my life carried on. To know how both sides of that coin feels is strange. And I couldn’t let it show. My job is to make people feel at ease, like everything is perfectly ok. Smiles, no worries – even though worry was what I was feeling for the people of Asheville, Burnsville, Chimney Rock, and so many more.
Our New Friends On The Long View Observation Deck
I’d be willing to bet that Ronn didn’t know how I was feeling. I’d be willing to bet he had no idea. Once he made sure our area was all ok, he just wanted to surprise his lovely partner Heather with an upgrade to the yurt they had rented long before Helene. So many in those days after the hurricane cancelled their stays without even asking the important questions, but Ronn was one of the few who knew that there might be more damage if he bailed on those of us who were ok. So, he kept his trip, upgraded it, and showed up right on time.
For this, I already liked Ronn and Heather before they ever walked in the door. But, it became evident really quickly that I was going to like them even more the longer they stayed. Ronn is a school teacher – and a good one – just like Adam. Heather is a mom of daughters, just like me, with similar struggles and victories. They both love hiking and the unique peace nature brings to any situation. They are personable, easy to talk to about nothing of real substance and even easier when that chatter turns to more serious discussions about the true meaning of life, about things much larger than ourselves. They meshed effortlessly with anyone who floated through the Lodge – young, old and in-between – and they even put a quiet hush on the place by napping on the community couch. I’d be willing to bet that they had no idea the peace they brought to my worries about being open for business after the storm. I won’t soon forget it, and I’ll be forever grateful to them both.
The Stones Resting Beneath The Nantahala River
To top it off, this pair of amazing humans bought me a unexpected gift. It was a gorgeous little wood-turned bowl inlaid with a little thread of glowing turquoise. As soon as I saw it, I knew where it was going to live and what its life purpose would be. As soon as I got the chance, I went down to our beloved Nantahala River that just days ago had raged out of control but was now running its normal pace through the Smoky Mountains. I started digging through the trucked-in gravel at the river’s edge, looking for real river stones – the kind that are thin and smooth, perfectly round or polished to the height of natural beauty. I pulled them up onto dry land, and I thought about how adversity has the power to shape us into something as close to perfect as these river stones. Waters may rise and rush around us, but underneath, the tumbling and bumping smooths the edges and makes everything come out ok. Just like Ronn and Heather. The came in to Long View having no idea the healing they would bring, no idea how ok they would make things for me. And that’s why the little bowl they offered me will always hold these river stones – free for the taking – as a measure of memory that everything will always be ok.
Ronn and Heather's Gift To Us That We Now Share With You
Western North Carolina will be ok. It may take a while, and there may be bumps along the way, but it will emerge even more beautiful than it was before. And, thank you to Ronn and Heather for the calm that you brought to the mountain with you and for the lesson you taught us without a word.
Comments