Meeting the Creek

When I was first invited to the creek, the internet wasn’t a word and phones hung on the wall. The creek house didn’t have a phone. After driving my 72 VW BUG from Virginia Beach to Stafford, I was instructed to call a neighbor’s house from the High’s Ice Cream payphone on Route 1. I knew this ahead of time and STILL had to search for a quarter - good thing Michele Gebler, now Hackworth, tossed her coins into her purse and missed 75% of the time! Anyways, I called the number, the neighbors ran across the yard to get Jim, so he could explain the rest of my journey - social network of the 80’s. Good thing Jim talked me through those directions; the drive was like jumpin’ down a rabbit hole! Country roads, cricket music, and a variety of night critters jumpin’ out to say,’hey!' Once I turned onto Woodrow Dr, the only light came from the moon, stars, and glittering water … it was just beautiful and I was in love with the place.


Met Jim’s parents for a split second, he rushed me to the dock, then pushed me onto a boat … AT NIGHT! WAS THIS MAN INSANE? Why am I willingly following this man into danger?! How do you boat at night?! Are there sharks?! Worse! Are there Stingin’ Nettles?! Did he put the plug in the boat?! IS there a plug for this boat?! I was scared to death of this floating death trap; we went ‘somewhere’ and somehow made it back to the same dock. I was amazed with this man. He must be a genius to boat at night and find his way home - I loved him instantly.


The next morning, I looked out the tiny bedroom window and froze; this was no “jump over creek” - this was huge! Boats were everywhere! People were swimming and no one was drowning! I can’t believe I’m about to write this, the creek is more beautiful than Kill Devil Hills, NC. I fell in love; twice that weekend. The creek house is so much a part of our thread that it is the first point of our will - we love this place that much.

Aquia Creek has a way of bringing you peace. The people here are lifelong friends. The outside world begins at the railroad tracks - we like it that way.

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JUST TO BE CLEAR: I was SURE this was turning into another ‘Paige Weekend’ for the books; the kind of weekend where danger surrounds my clueless-self but the dangerous people end up liking me, swapping stories, and guiding me home - it has happened more than a dozen times. Back then, my only saving grace was that Facebook was still a slang book and there was always time for damage control.


SIDE NOTE: The Girl Scout camp I went to in the mid to late 70’s is directly across the creek; so, while I was splashin’ in the creek over there - Jim was splashin’ over here.





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