This must be the place: ‘And if you take my heart, don’t leave the smallest part’
The backroads of Highlands.
Garret K. Woodward photo
In the midst of eating my third hard-boiled egg of the morning, I overheard the young couple at the next breakfast table mention to their server that they’d gotten married this past Saturday.
Taking a sip of my second cup of coffee, my gaze went from the newlyweds to the nearby roaring fireplace, then out the big glass windows onto the picturesque pond on the side lawn of the majestic property.
I then realized there were three other couples also eating in the cozy space, myself being the only one sitting alone, a dog-eared Larry McMurtry book in hand, casually rotating between reading paragraphs on yellowed pages and taking momentary glances at those jovial couples surrounding me.
“Will your wife be joining you?” the hostess asked when I stood at the doorway of the breakfast room and awaited my table. For a moment, I found myself stuck in intrinsic thought as to the question itself, how it could mean many different things on many different levels of one’s heart and soul.
“No, it’s just me,” I replied with a smile, my mind peeling back another layer of my current existential crisis heading into another holiday season, this time single. Headlong towards the end of the year as a 40-year-old with more questions than answers at this juncture. To note, this is the fourth day in a row I’ve been asked that question or some form of it: “Just you, sir?” “Will anyone be joining you?” “Would you like room service for anyone back at your room?”
Also, I don’t take offense, not at all. These folks working at this luxurious resort — on the Plateau that is the bucolic mountain town of Highlands — are just doing their job, and doing it incredibly well. Besides, this serene lodge is always filled with guests that are couples, not some scruffy writer flying solo who got placed here last-minute due to an issue with the original hotel located downtown. No matter, I see and appreciate humor in everyday life.
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And the Universe always seems to retain a sense of humor, especially when I find myself in these kinds of situations, especially in the last year since my former girlfriend and I broke up (Christmas Eve). I don’t know where she is or what she’s doing or how she’s feeling, and haven’t since she moved out last January. But, I do, truthfully and genuinely, hope she’s well and that the world she inhabits is aware of beauty and value, both inside and out of her being.
In terms of the breakfast queries upon my arrival at the dining room each morning, similar things have been happening all year since she disappeared from my daily existence. You see, as a wandering and pondering journalist, for the almost two years we were together, she would often come along with me on work trips. Sheesh, we went everywhere in America — Maine to Texas, Florida to Montana, and seemingly everywhere in between.
So, when I’ve been retracing similar routes on my own this year, I’ve found myself crossing paths with folks who remember that beautiful girl standing next me. Dive bars in Whitefish, Montana, or Mexican restaurants in St. Augustine, Florida. All these spots we once sat in and embraced, faces unknown only to become fast friends. Faces that now ask where she is and how we’re doing. Faces that are kind and generous, and were to us back then, and still are to me in the here and now of the present and unknown tomorrow.
Of course, in my lifelong people-pleasing ways and means, I usually evade the truth in my responses by offering up half-truths. Not necessarily stating the fate of our relationship, but also telling them something to hold onto when they depart and continue on their journey: “Nope, just me on this trip.” And that’s all I say. Isn’t it weird how although I’m the one that’s been dealing with deep sorrow and self-reflection in the aftermath, I aim to sugarcoat the facts for others, all in an effort to not disrupt their mood with the sad reality?
To that point, the reason I’m up here is to once again cover the stored Highlands Food & Wine Festival. Four days of culinary delights and endless beverages. I feel like a beached whale leaving the lodge today, my mind replaying countless moments of free champagne and caviar, shrimp and grits, craft ales and red wine, pasta and other delicious finger foods of unknown ingredients. It’s a gathering that’s always marked on my calendar.
The festival is also the last event of the year, in terms of retracing those routes she and I used to traverse. From this point forward, there will now have been a sufficient distance of one year since the demise of “us” and the creation of this new, unwritten chapter of my life. One year of meandering solo and creating new paths forward, either geographically or spiritually. One year of figuring everything out on my own. One year of gratitude for time, as well. Nothing in life is guaranteed, which is why I must write it all down in haste.
Who knows what the holiday season holds, eh? Perhaps more opportunities for awkward interactions as to being single at Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas parties. And yet, it is what it is, am I right? I find great solace, solitude and serenity in being alone, in trying to connect the dots of who I was, who I currently am, and who I want to be in the future. Manifest your dreams in real time. Manifest that woman who’ll join you for breakfast at the lodge.
And here I sit in the Garden House, smack dab in the middle of this beautiful place, typing wildly at the large wooden table in the middle of the large room, my body cradled by this large antique wooden chair, which is oddly comfortable based on the hard lines and stiff aesthetics of the furniture. This column is due to be submitted to my publisher in the coming hours. Thus, I must finish it before I motor back an hour to my humble abode in Waynesville.
The Avett Brothers’ “Salvation Song” comes over the surround-sound speakers in the Garden House. The melody swirls around my current position. I lean back into the chair, take a deep breath and exhale in my own time, and at my own pace — “And if you take of my soul/You can still leave it whole/With the pieces of your own you leave behind.”
Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.
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A fine reflection....I miss her also....guess not meant to be. ...tis better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all.....every day is a new adventure. ..enough.....yup...
Friday, 11/21/2025
