I know what true love is like. When my husband and I started dating he was so transparent. He made it clear how separated by two hours and 100+ miles made him ache to see me. We missed each other and every mile felt like 100.
Even some movies capture the ache love brings.
One of my favorites My favorite movie is Return to Me. If you haven’t seen it, grab a box of tissues and get ready to be swept off your feet as you watch David Duchovny and Minne Driver play Bob and Grace. I won’t give the plot, but at one key point Bob confesses, “I ache for Grace.” (((swoon)))
I write all that to say I feel something weird. I ache not for a person as much as I do a place. The first time I visited, I fell hard and had three contemporary romances sketched out because the creativity flowed as free as the waters surrounding me. I don’t know if it was the smell of the evergreens or the gentle breezes, but I was in a trance. I went back for my honeymoon, visited the area again on vacation, and took the family there six years ago.
Many years have passed since that first visit, close to 20, and I’m 2/3 done editing the umpteenth draft from the first sketch. It’s based in the mountains where I literally ache to return, in a village I respect. For a small county that has no red lights, I know four authors who are familiar with the village or live there during the summer. I opened Lysa TerKeurst’s blog in my inbox and she wrote about her vacation.
She was in the mountains. The Adirondack Mountains. To get even more specific, she was speaking at Camp-of-the-Woods in Speculator. Speculator is the place I know best, although I’ve been to Lake Placid and routes inbetween.
These days I’m about 10 hours from the pine trees, mountain views, hiking trails, rivers and the only place where I felt peace flood my soul just by standing on soil. I’m working on a writing retreat in Lake Placid, but the logistics are tough. It’s not like I can just hop in the car and be there.
So, I ache. Even as I typed these words, my Tweetdeck popped up with the hashtag #ADK. Sigh.
Am I the only one who aches for a place–I mean the kind of I want it so bad it’s embedded inside?
Unless you are writing from the Adirondacks.