This Time, I stopped

Earlier this month, on my way to New Jersey, I finally stopped at the Vermont Country Store.

Finally.

How does a 50-something woman from New Hampshire make it this long without ever stepping inside the Vermont Country Store? Honestly, I have questions for myself.

I've driven by this store at least two dozen times in the last 15 years. I’ve driven past it on trips to Florida, Washington D.C., New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Texas, and probably a few other places my memory has packed into the glove compartment....and have a handful of reasons why I've never stopped.

We drove by after 5 and they were closed. We just wanted to get to our destination. We'd stop there on the way back.

And then there was The Plan.

The Plan I had with Lance.

Our Visit Every Covered Bridge in New England on Our Motorcycles Plan.

So for a while, I drove by thinking I would stop there someday as part of that adventure. Then the relationship crashed and burned, and suddenly a country store and a covered bridge became emotionally booby-trapped.

Enter 2026. I'm healed. I still have trauma responses and probably always will, but I'm over the big hurdles. The Plan is no longer a blocker.

I left on my trip later than expected, but I had no real agenda, no strict timeline. The road ahead was full of possibilities and adventure. This time, I stopped.

I visited the covered bridge first. The Kissing Bridge. It was beautiful. Enchanting, even being there with no one to kiss. The strangest, most wonderful part was that being there didn’t hurt. In fact, I didn't even think about Lance because the history of the bridge was so fascinating and I was too absorbed in my adventure.

Then I went into the store. It looks big from the outside but inside, it's massive. It has everything. Everything. Toys, clothes, jewelry, snacks, candy, kitchenware. The kind of nostalgic objects that make you say, “Wait, my grandmother had one of those.”

I strolled. Took my time. Wandered. Enjoyed.

I knew I wanted to buy maple syrup, but I also bought myself a couple bracelets. African Turquoise for grounding, strength, and stamina. Pearl for integrity, focus, and wisdom. Apparently, my souvenir bag was interested in both pancakes and personal growth.

And when I was done, I got back on the road.

But I kept the mindset...slowing down, wandering, enjoying.

I stopped to grab a tea and a snack. Then I stopped for gas. And when I hit the Garden State Parkway, I had one more stop to make...the Jon Bon Jovi Service Area.

Normally, a service area is just a place to pee, refuel, and question your snack choices. This time, it was part of the adventure.

I've stopped here before, on one of my previous trips to Long Beach Island. But this was a Bon Jovi trip. The whole point of this trip was to see Jon perform at Music America to celebrate the opening of the Bruce Springsteen Center for American Music at Monmouth University. So I stopped, took some time to enjoy the man in front of the band. And once again, I strolled, enjoyed, and (shocker) treated myself to an iced chai latte.

The next day, I slept in, until about 9, something I never get to do because my dogs are morning girls. Then we went to the beach. I was planning to go in, but the high tide waves made that happen quicker than I'd planned. After my dip, I took a nap under the umbrella.

My trip home on Saturday was less whimsical wandering and more classic road-trip determination: get snacks, get gas, get home. But before that drive, I experienced a genuine miracle.

I slept until almost 11.

I never get to do that. On the weekends, I might get up and go back to sleep, but I never get to sleep straight through. I'd intended to leave early to make the long journey home, but that sleep was the best sleep I'd had in years. But I did make one very intentional stop.

The Judy Blume Service Area. An icon from childhood. Judy Blume was one of those authors who made girlhood feel less weird, less lonely, and a whole lot more survivable. I had no idea she was from New Jersey until I saw the service area on my way down. This service area was only a short jaunt from where I got on the Parkway, but stopping wasn't about gas or drinks or snacks. It was about slowing down, enjoying the moment, learning about an an author who helped shape the course for countless girls.

This whole trip was a lesson in slowing down. I am usually all about the mission: what needs to get done, what I should be doing, how productive I can be. My brain loves a checklist. My body is usually three steps behind carrying snacks and sensible shoes.

But lately, I’ve started to move differently. I’ve been taking my hikes slow. I’ve strolled around the yard and picked flowers. I cleaned my room by finding homes for all the little things. I cleaned my office and hung pictures with precision.

And on this trip, I stopped for the bridge, the store, the service areas, the tea, the nap, and the tiny moments I would have missed if I had treated the whole thing like another mission to complete.

Maybe balance isn’t about stopping the motion. Maybe it’s about choosing, every now and then, to pull over.