spend our last day in virginia on the mountain where my grandparents grew up. the family has a long history in this area; along the way we pass little shops and cemeteries bearing my last name.
stop at grandpas house and stand next to the spring, overlooking the valley and the 65 acres that once made up the small farm. an artificial pond has been added. grandpa doesnt like it.
three more cemeteries to go. great-grandpa freddie. great-grandma hettie. aunt phoebe. uncle elmer. a myriad of names, old-fashioned but familiar, inherently appalachian, all dead.
join the family at the outdoor theatre for a nite of bluegrass and dancing. bass, banjo, mandolin, fiddle.
sit on a blanket and watch the children laugh as they try their best to mimick the complicated dancing of their elders.
smile and soak in the beauty of this moment, and think that life should always be this simple.
up at 6am and ready to go home. the perpetual right turn takes us further down the mountain until the car suddenly stops. a fawn stands in the middle of the road. awkward and unsteady, its bowed legs quicken step. reach the edge of the road and duck under the guardrail. find some sort of safety on the other side.
baby deer runs as best as he can while the vehicle follows behind him. 10 yards, and the space between the guardrail and the side of the mountain is noticeably smaller. 20 yards, and baby deer is losing his footing. tiny, fragile legs slip and flail, but never slow down.
30 yards and a 200 foot drop. rest in peace, baby deer.
shed a tear and soak in the sadness of this moment, and think that life should always be this simple.
stop at grandpas house and stand next to the spring, overlooking the valley and the 65 acres that once made up the small farm. an artificial pond has been added. grandpa doesnt like it.
three more cemeteries to go. great-grandpa freddie. great-grandma hettie. aunt phoebe. uncle elmer. a myriad of names, old-fashioned but familiar, inherently appalachian, all dead.
join the family at the outdoor theatre for a nite of bluegrass and dancing. bass, banjo, mandolin, fiddle.
sit on a blanket and watch the children laugh as they try their best to mimick the complicated dancing of their elders.
smile and soak in the beauty of this moment, and think that life should always be this simple.
up at 6am and ready to go home. the perpetual right turn takes us further down the mountain until the car suddenly stops. a fawn stands in the middle of the road. awkward and unsteady, its bowed legs quicken step. reach the edge of the road and duck under the guardrail. find some sort of safety on the other side.
baby deer runs as best as he can while the vehicle follows behind him. 10 yards, and the space between the guardrail and the side of the mountain is noticeably smaller. 20 yards, and baby deer is losing his footing. tiny, fragile legs slip and flail, but never slow down.
30 yards and a 200 foot drop. rest in peace, baby deer.
shed a tear and soak in the sadness of this moment, and think that life should always be this simple.
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xoxo-
emily
Remy