Greensboro Reunion

This weekend, Lucy and I traveled to Greensboro, NC to visit Cheryl, my roommate from those years of graduate school in the mountains otherwise known as "the darkest period of my life." Without Cheryl, I probably wouldn't have survived my days in Sylva. We bonded almost instantly and shared so many experiences. Some were good; some were bad; and some were just altogether bizarre. We came out of our time in the mountains with a lot of laughter and a few valuable lessons on navigating life in Appalachia as an outsider.

Looking back on our years in Sylva, the most valuable lesson we learned might possibly be the "How to Avoid a Fist-Fight With the Local Ladies" lesson. No matter where we were, we found ourselves eye to eye with women who weren't happy to see us. Once, Cheryl narrowly escaped being pummeled by a none-to-happy lady (and I use term loosely) while waiting in line outside of the restroom at O'Mally's Irish Pub (another term I use loosely here). What had she done? It may have been the black sweater, dark jeans, and tasteful, yet eclectic jewelry she wore, three distinct items signaling to the locals that she was not "from around here." After a few similar incidents, we discovered it best not to make eye contact with the women. And after being hit on by our fair share of toothless married men, we decided to employ this same technique on the local men as well.

Living in a town where Walmart was THE place to be, we were also forced to find new ways to occupy our free time. We soon found ourselves indulging in long afternoons turned evenings sitting on my front stoop, gazing out at the vast green--and in the winter, stark brown--landscape, sipping almost sickeningly sweet white wine while listening to James Taylor with a side of Led Zeppelin thrown in for good measure.

As single girls in our twenties, the sting of recent heartbreak still too familiar, we also looked for new romantic interests to distract us from our general melancholic state of being. However, the list of prospects in the mountains was virtually nonexistent, and we found ourselves "crushing" on two library boys. After all, the time we didn't spend on my front stoop, we spent studying in the library. She had a soft spot for Dan, a lanky wanderer while I preferred the disheveled, socially awkward boy we nicknamed "Grumpy Hippie." It's funny what isolation will do to you.

There's also something about the two of us together that beacons the strange energies of the universe our way. After graduation, we decided to relocate to Asheville, the big city. After searching for a decent place to live, and turning down one freakish place after another, including a delightful apartment complete with wall to wall mirrors and a poll in the middle of the room on a stage, we stumbled upon what seemed to be the perfect house--a 1920's bungalow near downtown Asheville. We loved the hippie-feel of the neighborhood as well as the seemingly unending choices of restaurants, bars, and shopping. After our years in Sylva, Asheville may as well have been NYC. We wouldn't have known the difference.

But shortly after moving in, the fun began. Our basement flooded with sewage, and a week later a hurricane ripped through the mountains knocking out our power and water. For weeks, we couldn't flush our toilet and were forced to boil every ounce of water we consumed. Who would've thought a hurricane could wreck such havoc in the mountains? And if that wasn't bad enough, we found ourselves in the middle of winter with no heat. Two impractical, bookish girls from the suburbs quickly learned how to make a fire hot enough to keep a house heated through the night.

My years in the mountains were difficult. I was lonely. Homesick. Sad. Stressed. Yet somehow, Cheryl always made things better. We found comfort in our mutual misery and always managed to laugh. Now, we live several hours apart and don't keep in touch as much as we should. But being in Greensboro over the weekend, I was reminded just how important she is in my life. I was thrilled to watch Lucy get to know her Auntie Cheryl and look forward to our next visit with my old roomie and lifelong friend.