We travelled down the country road,
singing the Avett Brothers
at the top of our lungs.

Daddy drove, and I,
I looked out at the mountains,
some snow-capped and some bare-faced,
but all calling to me.

We passed a boiled-peanut truck, and he
promised me some on our return.

I made sure he made good
on his promise.

When we got to the mountains,
we rolled down the windows and
turned the music up.

I stuck my head out the window to
smell the fresh mountain air.

We pulled in to the parking lot
on the highest point in SC,
and ate our lunch on the overlook.

Before long, our PB&J sandwiches
were gone, and we were ready to hike.

We passed through expanses of
thin hardwoods,
of clustered rhododendrons,
of pine trees made for logging.

We stopped to eat a snack
on a ledge that
overlooked Chimney Rock.

A hawk circled us, and it made me smile
because it looked so free.

Out there on the ledge,
it felt like we were the only
souls in the world.

On the way back,
Daddy put on U2, and we sang
in between bites of those
boiled peanuts.