Today is Tuesday, which means it's half-price burger night at Mosby's Tavern in Middleburg, which is the greatest addition to a regular event since fireworks were added to 4th of July festivities. I text Hatch to see if she wanted to go (I simply said "Mosbys???" it's brevity at its best) and she agreed to meet me there with two of the high school girls. Leesburg to Middleburg can be quite a long, stop-n-go drive if done by those who are less experienced with the beauty of LoCo backroads. I took 15 to Lime Kiln, and was surprised that it had recently been paved. I also forgot how absolutely beautiful that drive is. The sun was starting to set as I traced the undulating, unmarked country road that so closely follows Goose Creek, which was muddy and swollen within its banks. It was so quiet and solitary and lush and teeming with every native creature that I felt more like a member than a visitor. It actually felt like the LoCo that I grew up with and that I miss so terribly. It was home again. I took Lime Kiln to Snickersville Tpke and in a brain fart, headed south on Snickersville instead of cutting through Mountville. So I decided to make up a route instead of taking the Tpke to 50, so I turned down a one-lane gravel road that sounded familiar and found my way without the hint of a problem. Mosby's was wonderful, except the absence of one specific person was glaringly obvious and a little heart-wrenching. The place is attached to years of memories, however the experiences of last summer solidify as the strongest, due to that person. Driving home I took Foxcroft to 611, the way we'd go last year. And the beauty and familiarity was eclipsed only by that overwhelming sense of absence. It was bittersweet to finally feel home, but have those who mean the most to be long gone.
I miss ya, friend.
