Wednesday, May 5, 2021

RIVERHOUSE

 Wednesday Scribblings and we're to feature a place that is special to us.  There's one place that will always hold a special place in my heart, enfolded in memories throughout a long portion of my life. In autumn, when the leaves begin to turn, my heart goes to the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, and my favorite place.   Submitted to Poets & Storytellers United, May 5, 2021.

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For more than 30 years, my three good friends and I spent a week every autumn in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains.  Creatures of habit, we stayed in the same room in the same lodge for all those years.  It was our favorite place.  The Riverhouse Lodge sat at the base of a mountain beside a gurgling little river called The Little Pigeon River.  We spent long hours on the balcony over the river, and slept listening to the sound of its tumbling progress over the rocks below.   We played rousing card games, snug by the fireplace, with the bounty of our shopping sprees lining the perimeter of the room.   We shared our lives, our joys and tribulations, and marked those long hours with sometime tears, but always with much laughter.  

The years have passed, and the other three of our foursome have passed on to what comes after.  I was left with my memories and the hope of returning to the Riverhouse one more time, but it was not to be.  A couple of years ago, a careless spark ignited a dreadful fire that swept down the mountainside and burned to the ground the lodge we loved so much.  I was bereft.  One day soon, I thought, I’ll follow my friends, and we’ll all be gone … the four of us, the lodge, and the balcony where we shared our lives.  We’ll all be but a blip in the passage of time.  A new lodge will replace the old, and new young housewives will come for their annual girlfriend getaway.  But I wonder, I just wonder,  if our spirits may not linger in the green hills above, and the sound of our laughter be heard faintly as the water tumbles over the rocks below.  


15 comments:

  1. What wonderful memories. What wonderful friends. I'm so sorry for your losses. Certainly your friends, but the fire robbing you of a last visit to the lodge.

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  2. I remember another of your pieces that included a bit about this place, about the friendship... It's always such a pleasure to read of friendships that last this long. I had no idea the place was going. I bet that when all of you are spirit, you'll go back and fill the place with joy again.

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    1. My son and wife just spent their 23rd wedding anniversary nearby. They tell me the site where the lodge stood is still vacant and nothing has been built on the site.

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  3. Sounds excellent - I'd love to visit some mountains soon!

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  4. We have a special place like that up in Maine, where a few families we're friends with go every year for a visit. I'd be devastated if anything happened to that place.

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  5. Oh, I can definitely see your foursome lingering over the lodge near the Little Pigeon River. The lodge may have burned to the ground, and your friends may have gone, but in some dimension other than this one, all is well.

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  6. What wonderful getaways they must have been! Sad, yes, that the friends and the place are no longer in this world, but I'm sure the memories must warm you. Thank you for sharing them with us.

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  7. How lovely. I felt sad reading of the fire though. Spirits of laughter revisiting. I too wonder

    Happy Wednesday. Thanks for dropping by to read mine, Bev.

    Much❤love

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  8. How beautifully you wrote this; full of friendships and love and precious memories.

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  9. My husband and I stayed there one weekend. It was lovely. I'm sorry it is gone.

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  10. Your Smoky Mountains retreat sounds idyllic, Bev, and autumn must have been the best time to hang out with friends in a lodge by a gurgling river with a great name. How tragic that the Riverhouse was destroyed by fire.

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  11. This made me sad and happy at the same time ... loss and recovery rolled into one.

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  12. "other three of our foursome have passed on", reeks of loss of best friends. It was good to have a place to sharpen memories. The place is still there, as is this picture that you keep handy.
    I suggest you try to keep this excellent tale with the photo to pass on a memory jab of you to the generation taking the place of yours.
    ..

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    1. Sadly, Jim, the place isn't still there. It burned to the ground and has not been rebuilt. The sign is still there, but apparently there will be no generation replacing us!!

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  13. Oh Bev, this was a warm and wonderful poem. So many excellent memories!

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