Take Me to Church

I travel when it’s imperative to feel small and insignificant. I travel when I crave feeling like a stranger in a foreign land.

Perhaps that’s why I love Richmond so much, because it makes me feel like an outsider peeking in. I learned to cherish being an outsider long ago. I travel when I want to remember how delightfully small Richmond is and I also travel when I need to go to a place that will make it look like a big city. 

When I need to nourish my soul, I travel. Today, I traveled. 

It was just a road trip. This makes it seem insignificant. That couldn’t be further from the truth. 

I saw a photo of the Winston Chapel on favorite Instagram feed this summer and I made a mental note. It was a perfect destination for a road trip one can do from Richmond without any preparation at all. When I found myself with a calendar free of calls at noon today, guess what I did? I took off.  

In some ways this is how travel sometimes needs to be. To places that are not famous or even exceptionally beautiful. On roads that remind you that you will never scratch the surface of the secrets of someone else’s life as you drive by their home. 

The story of the Winston Chapel is a Virginian Romeo and Juliet tale. Two feuding families, the Winstons and the Sommervilles. Each building their own place of worship. Two young people falling in love and linking the archenemies. The last remaining descendent is not a Winston. The Winston Chapel is abandoned, surrounded by no trespassing signs and warnings you are being watched by cameras. 

I kept looking into the windows, not afraid to let my imagination paint a person behind the reflections of the pine tree on the glass panes.