It was a late fall evening, a Friday a few years ago, and my son and I had just arrived at a local raceway a couple of hours away from our home.

We were there to attend a very intense weekend driving program I had signed him up for.

My husband had actually worked for the racetrack years ago and that’s how we found out about the driving program.

It was a dual program for both the beginner driver and the parent, so we were in this together!

Originally though, my husband had opted to do this with our son as driving at high speeds on an ice simulated / oil slicked racetrack is NOT my thing!

Due to weather, a rain date was rescheduled and it happened to fall on a weekend that my husband was unavailable, so yes, yours truly ended up having to be the chosen one.

According to my daughter (the expert driver in our family) “it was meant to be” as I was the one that “needed the course more than (her) dad…”

For the record, though, and as terrified as I was, I did learn a lot, and it ended up being a weekend with my son that I would always cherish.

The international raceway sits nestled in between the North Carolina and Virginia state line, basically in out-of-the-middle-of-nowhere country.

Soon after arriving and settling in our very awesomely cool hotel room located dead center on the racetrack, (it pays to know people), we noticed we were both getting a little hungry.

Now in this area you have two choices: one being a fancy-schmancy dinner there at the racetrack’s tavern, (I figured we might would save that meal to celebrate if we both survived the weekend, you know, without killing each other…) or two, a quick country drive down past the North Carolina state line to a little pizza shop called “Aunt Millie’s.”

And this is where our story begins…

In the quaint little town of Milton, North Carolina.

Now, I personally, had never been to “Millie’s” but my husband raved about it on many occasions.

This was his go-to lunch stop whenever he was there working at the track.

It was getting on the later side of that Friday night and I wasn’t sure if “Aunt Millie’s” would be still be open or not, but our bellies were a-growling so we decided to take our chances. The alternative at this hour would be whatever fine cuisine we could salvage up at a local gas station. Our fingers were crossed.

After following my husband’s directions and the GPS, we pulled up to 249 Broad Street.

Cars lined the road alongside the stretch of buildings that constituted Milton’s “Historic District.”

Lights lit up the night and the sound of laughter and conversations radiated from the continuous covered porch that connected the joining shops.

Not only was “Aunt Millie’s Pizza Subs & Suds” open, but it was, indeed, hopping!

There were a couple families eating outside on both picnic tables there on “Millie’s” front porch. The enjoyable November night was a little warmer than usual, but still held the crispness that made you want to hang tight to your jacket.

The front door was propped open to allow both the tantalizing smell of baking pizzas to linger out, as well as the fresh autumn air to breeze in, cooling off the inside of the bustling and crowded restaurant.

As we walked in, we were approached by a very friendly server.

“Two?” She asked.

I nodded.

“Well come on in! We’ll make room for ya!” She said with a welcoming smile and quickly glancing around the area spotting a small table and chair in the front corner.

Adding another chair, two wrapped silverwares and two menus she informed us, “Just so ya know, we’re known for our pizzas!”

“So we’ve heard!” I replied.

Gazing around the restaurant there were people of all ages.

Whole families with children were there together.

A couple of teenagers huddled near the back.

There were couples both young and old enjoying a possible “date night.”

A group of ladies sat laughing with one another indicating a girl’s night out.

A few fellas sat at the barstools together sipping some cold ones.

The overall atmosphere was that of a long-awaited family reunion.

Happy.

If the population at that time held true to be around one hundred and fifty-ish people, I can bet you the majority of them were right there, all together, for a Friday night full of friends, family, food and fellowship.

My son and I both instantly recognized the jubilant tone of our surroundings.

It was a genuine good time and you couldn’t help but smile as the mood was contagious.

I had noticed a small bath and soap shop down from the restaurant that appeared to be open even though it seemed late.

“Smelly-goods” are one of my weaknesses, so I asked our server about the shop.

“Oh Annie’s probably in there and would be glad to let you look around!  Ya’ll go on down there while your pizza’s cooking! ‘Be about fifteen minutes!”

We took her up on her suggestion.

We wandered down the porch walkway peering into the window of a wonderful antique shop.

Nostalgia and antique shops are also a weakness that I share with my son.

We love antique browsing, but as expected this time of evening, that shop was closed.

The door to the soap shop was still open.

Inside was a fella sitting at a table and a lady behind the counter who I presumed to be “Annie.”

“Excuse me? I know it’s kinda late, but we were waiting for our dinner at “Millie’s” and I was asking about your shop, and our server mentioned maybe…”

Before I could finish, she welcomed us inside.

She introduced herself as Annie, the shop’s owner, and she was there along with her husband, the now town Mayor, gathering up some last minute online orders to mail out the following day.

We browsed and smelled all the fine soaps, lotions, and body scrubs that Miss Annie hand-makes herself.

We talked for a while and she was even kind enough to allow me to make a late-night purchase! I’ll be honest, I’ve been hooked on Miss Annie’s products ever since!

We headed back down to “Millie’s” where our piping hot pizza awaited us.

The food was fabulous and we both enjoyed “people watching” and talking with the friendly folks of Milton, a lot of whom approached us. It was no secret we were visitors.

As we were finishing off the evening with a couple of “Millie’s” root beer floats, Miss Annie and her husband walked in.

“How’d ya’ll like the pizza?” She asked.

We gave her our review and how, without a doubt, it was some of the best pizza our taste buds have ever encountered!

Miss Annie sat with us and chatted for a while, sharing a bit of history, both of Milton and “Millie’s.”

The town acquired its name from its beginnings as a “mill town,” becoming incorporated back in 1796.

And as far as “Aunt Millie?”

She was actually a sought-after resident of Milton, even back before 1796, who the community turned to when they had a special event and needed fine food served. Her recipes, particularly that of pizza, and chocolate pie, have been passed down and are still alive and well, come lunch and dinner time there at “Aunt Millie’s.”

Miss Annie and my son also had the common interest of music. She shared with him some of her experiences of being a musician and song writer and traveling the world.

In the mist of the conversations, I must have mentioned wanting to come back to Milton and visit the antique shop, because wouldn’t you know, the owner of the shop was there at “Millie’s” and offered us up a quick peek into her shop too!

My son and I could have spent hours in the store, but since we were so graciously given a late night preview, we browsed conservatively.

As my son was doing a quick visual pan of everything his eyes could possibly take in, I happened to come across a large portrait of a young mother and baby.

The picture captivated me and I inquired about it.

“They’ve been with us a long time.” The shop owner said.

“Something about them. I don’t know, lots of people stop and look, but here they stay.”

“Where did it come from?” I asked.

She explained that “they” were part of an estate sale years ago.

“Mom, you like them. Just buy them!” My son said joining in on the idea that the shop owner had referring to the two individuals themselves, rather than the portrait they inhabited.

The owner hearing this even said she’d reduce the already low price just to find them a home.

I stepped into the town of Milton and was reminded of what life is all about.

Family

Friends

Community

And one of the most valuable of resources we can give one another.

Time.

If you happen to run across the little town of Milton in between Virginia and North Carolina, I encourage you to stop. It won’t take long.

Grab a bite of pizza or a slice of chocolate pie.

Visit Miss Annie’s soap shop.

Maybe even glance in the antique store.

But mostly, take in the hospitality of a small, close-knit town of people and learn from them.

So there they hang.

Above the piano,

On our living room wall.

A mother and baby I don’t know.

But ones who wear the most convivial smiles.

A little souvenir and reminder of what the world might be like if we treated everyone we encountered like the couple of hungry strangers that showed up late one November night in the town of Milton, North Carolina.