Reflections on the Road: Maryland, My Maryland

I drove over 375 miles over the course of my Christmas celebrations, from Philadelphia to Longwood Gardens then to Columbia, Frederick, and Hagerstown, MD, and back again to Philadelphia. I-95, I-476, US-1, I-70, Rt. 40, I-695, and local streets in between. I sat in traffic; almost missed one stop sign; cleared my car of snow and ice; struggled to stay awake in the face of the afternoon sun. I saw headlights and taillights and the Susquehanna River, but my favorite sight of all? My Maryland mountains.

Every time I drive between Frederick and Hagerstown on I-70 or I-40, I feel a swell of pride and joy as I look at the ridges and valleys dotted with homes and silos. I am from the most beautiful place in the world, I think to myself, but I did not always feel this way. Oh no, I clearly recall childhood conversations with friends about how lame our hometown was, how we couldn't wait to live anywhere but Western Maryland. Sometimes, one has to travel very far to realize the value of what is near, and sometimes, one just has to look very closely. I did both.

To celebrate college graduation, I took a road trip across the United States. I'd been planning the trip since fourth grade, and was fully ready to fall in love with some other part of the country, exhausted by Maryland and Pennsylvania - the latter of which I had never wanted to live in the first place. I drove through mountains, deserts, forests, plains, state parks, national parks, buffalo herds, geysers, monuments, cities, and tolls. I gazed on incredible sights - The Grand Canyon, Mammoth Caves, Sequoia trees, Old Faithful, Cadillac Ranch, Mount Rushmore, The Grand Tetons. I was astounded by beauty, awed by God's creation. I fell in love with the Northwest - with Wyoming, Idaho, Montana. The mountains took my breath away, and yet - something in their grandeur felt so familiar, so comforting.

I was over 2,000 miles from everything I had ever known when it hit me: this is my favorite stop because it reminds me of home. Granted, an over-sized, snow-capped, grizzly-bear-friendly version of home, but still, the rolling green ridges and valleys were the song of my soul, and here they were again, a welcome sight after the dull beige of the desert. I turned to my life-long friend: "This is beautiful, but you know what? We live in a really beautiful place, too." "I was thinking the same thing," she said. Or, some exchange like that - who can ever remember exact words? All I know is, we were in communion. We had planned for thirteen years to travel far from home, and here we were, closer to it than ever before.

I wasn't homesick. I didn't end the trip to run back to South Mountain. I didn't mourn the remaining minutes I was separated from Maryland. No, I relished each brilliant sight and experience. But I got out of the car that June day knowing that I was back in a place I found breathtaking and familiar, a place I knew well but now needed to know more.

So, for the year I lived at home after college, I dated Hagerstown. I ate endless amounts of ice cream on the Maryland Ice Cream Trail; I wrote for the local co-op; I hiked trails I had never touched before; I drank at wineries and breweries and distilleries; I performed on street corners and in old churches; I drove back roads instead of highways, soaking in cornfields and soy fields; I finally attended the Leitersburg Peach Festival and Augustoberfest, and at those moments was never happier to live in a small town.

Even though I was enjoying reacquainting myself with my hometown, I was weighed down by the stress of joblessness and indirection. Between ice cream licks and donut runs, I was longing to be anywhere but in Washington County. Yet one spring night, on my commute home on I-70, desperately wondering what I was doing with my life, I looked out my car window and all I could think was wow, look at that view. I'd just returned from a trip to Oregon, where I admired stunning peaks and snaking rivers, yet here I was, still moved by the subtle, regal beauty that is Western Maryland.

"You clearly love Sacramento." Sister Sarah Joan says to Christine in the movie Lady Bird.
"I do?" 
"You write about Sacramento so affectionately and with such care." 
"I was just describing it." Christine counters.
"Well it comes across as love." 
"Sure, I guess I pay attention." Christine concedes.
"Don't you think maybe they are the same thing? Love and attention?"

It takes Christine - Lady Bird - 3,000 miles and a student loan to realize Sister Sarah Joan is right. As she wanders New York City her first weekend of college, finally living the East Coast dream she imagined for herself, she flashes back to the beauty of Sacramento and realizes she really loves her home. I sat in the theater crying at the end, knowing exactly how she felt. But I also know, like Lady Bird, that despite loving my home and thinking it one of the most beautiful places in the world, I cannot live there, at least, not right now. I need to try new things, to explore new places, to find my own way. Philadelphia offers me a career, friendships, independence. Philadelphia has become my home, but that does not mean I love Hagerstown any less.

Grasping is not loving. Distance is not disregard. Maybe, some day the timing will be better. Maybe, some day we'll be right for each other. Maybe, some day I'll be back for good. Or, maybe not. But whatever the case may be, I will always look at those mountains and farms and sunflower fields as the land that I love. 

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Want to experience Washington County, MD and the surrounding area? Here are some quintessential stops:

Misty Meadow Farm Creamery

Annapolis Rock, Washington Monument, and/or High Rock portions of the Appalachian Trail

Washington County Museum of Fine Arts

The Plum

Krumpe's Donuts

Red Heifer Winery

Jonathan Hager House

This is the second installment in my category, Reflections on the Road. The aim of these posts is to document ways in which my physical journeys and my intellectual/spiritual/emotional journey intersect through traveling, in a more concerted effort to explore the title of this blog. Ride along!