Chicamacomico

I can tell my vacation is nearing its end the same way I can tell its time to do laundry: all my favorite pairs of underwear are used up. All that remain are the ill-fitting and/or raggedy pairs.

I have two more days left in Chicamacomico.

Chicamacomico is an Algonquin word that roughly translates into “shifting or sinking sands.” It is the original name for three communities that have come to be known as Rodanthe, Waves, and Salvo.

As an aside, I learned today that the “e” is pronounced in Rodanthe.

During my first trip out to the beach this morning with coffee in hand, I noticed the people who had been staying in the Ebb Tide house were leaving. Now’s my chance, I thought. I’ll go ask if I can take a quick peak inside. I approached a man with this request and he clearly did not wish to accommodate me. I explained that I thought it was super cute and he said, “It’s not cute on the inside.”

A good while after they left, I decided to see what I could see from the windows. I approached the steps leading up to the deck and saw quite plainly that the sands on this beach are indeed shifting.

I climbed the steps and took the following photos of the interior by looking through the windows.

In my opinion, cute is in the eyes of the beholder.

I had been waiting for today because today, the Chicamacomico Lifesaving Station Museum would allegedly be open. I had discovered this lifesaving station by chance, was intrigued by its structures, and wanted to learn more about it. When I arrived, a large “CLOSED” sign was posted on the gate. A car was in the parking lot and lights were on in one of the buildings. I decided to call a number listed online. Maybe they were just closed for lunch? A woman answered and told me they were indeed closed but she could let me come into the gift shop.

Inside the gift shop were prints depicting the bravery of the keepers of the lifesaving station and their crew and the treacherous conditions with which they were often met. Among them was an uncanny print of a team of men using ropes to drag a boat across the sand in the middle of a raging storm. “You couldn’t get horses to pull the boat in a storm, so the men had to,” my hostess explained to me. She loved this lifesaving station and all its history. She delighted in answering my questions and would have told me more than I could retain probably. But I made some purchases and left. I do want to return at a time when the museum is open. The tours are self-guided and offer a unique glimpse back in time.

I decided to wander north to see if I could find an open restaurant. I could not. But I happened upon a curious marker that made me pull over.

I parked my car and got out, determined that this was a public area to explore, and set off walking along a winding, sandy road.

I spotted a deer off to my left who was standing partially hidden by a shrub and looking at me. I stopped and made an “ooooo!” sound. A curious baby deer peered out from the other side of the shrub! I stood looking at the two of them, the two of them stood looking at me, until the mom leapt off, and the baby followed suit. They ran to the top of a sand dune and paused to look back at me before disappearing to the other side.

I walked on, approaching a crest in a hill and I wondered what I’d find once I reached the top.

I found more road.

I followed the road all the way to its end. And there was nothing but sand and sea.

The vast expanse of emptiness, the absence of any sort of buildings was startling. I held my arms out to embrace the emptiness. It was a very large emptiness so I had to spread my arms out wide.

I returned to my car and drove back to the house where I’m staying. I was lured away from my room by the cute Jack Russell puppy named Ozzie who is staying at a house just down the road from me. Ozzie is a mess. Quite full of himself. I managed to get a few pics of him trying to make friends with a cat, who would have nothing to do with him.

Jack Russells are fearless animals. I appreciate this about them. Because I’ve been crippled by fear over the years. Fear of what other people think of me, basically.

This fear kept me hanging on to the idea that one day, my friend from Oregon – the one who was going to move to NC to be with me, the one who quite suddenly reversed his affection and direction mid-trip, abandoning all his spoken plans, the one who called me the “Hope Diamond of manipulative geniuses,” the one who is the source of my grieving – one day, maybe five or ten years from now, we might become friends again. I could not stand the idea that he thinks I am the “Hope Diamond of manipulative geniuses.” I wanted him to see that he was wrong, that I’m a good person. I held onto a remnant of that hope until today. I think that’s why I’d been hanging on to correspondences. But not anymore.

I deleted over a year’s worth of text messages between me and this guy. Every single day for over a year. Text messages that went back and forth sometimes for hours at a time. I could have written a novel or a play in the time I spent writing text messages. In one quick motion, I deleted them all. I deleted his phone number. I deleted emails and his email address. I blocked him on social media. And in this manner, I have symbolically shut the door forever on the possibility of being that guy’s friend. That possibility does not exist. Because I have learned some valuable lessons at Chicamacomico.

The people I want in my life are people who are capable of weathering storms with me. People who have moral attributes like courage, tenacity, loyalty, and people who manage to keep wonder alive. The people I want in my life are people who won’t lose their footing when the sands shift and who will enjoy riding the waves that shift them.

I want to be the sort of person that I would accept as a friend.

These are the realizations that resulted from my stay in Chicamacomico. And for that, Chicamacomico will always be a part of my heart.