Although I wish Chesterfield was one of the localities in Virginia that punctuated signs (e.g., my hometown has a Todds Lane because screw apostrophes), I like how Woods Edge Road sounds. It reminds me of the title of a thriller novel I wouldn’t read because reading about the deep, dark, most likely supernatural secret of on the outskirts of some New England town just isn’t my thing.
After 11 years, Woods Edge Road is about to have another significance: On any given day, it will be roughly as far south as I’ll go in Greater Richmond.
I get my car serviced off Woods Edge Road and I have friends and the family of friends off that exit. If not for that, the title of this probably would be Route 288 or Willis Road or even Chippenham Parkway.
Once my contacts run out in a few months, I’m finally switching optometrists. That means I’ll no longer have an excuse to go to Petersburg. I only recently went to Colonial Heights because Renée’s car needed servicing and we needed to kill time. I haven’t been to Hopewell since getting my current dining table. My last trip to Prince George County was because I decided to take Route 10 during a trip to Hampton Roads.
Other than taking Missy late last year to what the old timers still call Ferndale Park, I haven’t been to my beloved Dinwiddie since we were bored one Sunday and I showed Renée my beloved Dinwiddie.
I’ve all but said goodbye to the Tri-Cities and barely noticed.
It feels a little odd because the region has been a part of my life for so long. I didn’t think it would cease being a part of my life in the blink of an eye, especially since it is so close.
I’ll always carry a piece of it with me, though. In a way, it’s my alma mater, too.
I truly learned to be a journalist there. My first real apartment was there. The first time I fully realized I was a grown up was there.
But I’ve now outgrown it.