Dear Smoky Mountains,
I miss you. Even though I see you from the porch, Clingman's dome. I miss you. You are so close I could touch you, but I can't. I miss you like mad. I dream of you, and pretend to be walking inside your park. I dream of all the little flowers sleeping beneath the soil and the snow. I miss that I could cross a creek on some rocks, even if it does make my belly funny when I do it. I miss those smells. I miss the trails. I miss seeing the AT. All the little birds and nests, the moss laying gingerly on the rocks. I miss sitting close. I miss that "smoke." I miss ya. I want you to know. My passion lies within you. You are my comfort. I love finding animal tracks. I love those lingering animal smells that make you all up. I miss those rocks. The freezing cold water. Even in July. It's cold. But, gracious, it feels sooooo good. Who cares how purple my legs are? I dont. I miss the falls. The salamanders. Those crawfish!!! The graveyards. Hiking you, taking you in, finding those places in my mind that I miss. I hug you. Please continue to to think of me, and hold me close as I hold you. I will see you soon.