It’s a Thursday evening, at dusk. The residential street I’m walking down is lovely. Cozy homes snuggled into hilltops. Vibrant red and yellow leaves scattered beneath cars, aside curbs.
It’s hot. My grey tank has become another layer of skin. I run my hand through my short, cropped hair, taking a deep breath as I push forward.
I’ve been to Asheville a few times now. The reasons varied.
Morrie and I took a long walk around Asheville’s River Arts District today. The sweltering heat was worth the great shots.
“Matt, smile.” I hold my phone at a different angle, cutting out my face. Tess smiles and Matt glances over. “Let’s do another one,” I say. We try again. Matt’s face is even more awkward. “Matt doesn’t need to be in the picture,” Tess decides.
My favorite thing about travel are the surprises. I travel with the intention of being surprised. Most of the excursions, restaurants, and people I encounter are by chance.
“Wait, am I still in your phone as this?” My thumb is hovering over a contact, “Melissa W from Queensboro”. The petite, dark haired girl driving confirms it, then offers to update it. “It’s fine,” I say, texting myself the photo I wanted. We’ve just left Chimney Rock. She’s carefully steering our Nissan Note (a rental) back down the…
A lot of my readers are from North Carolina, however, many are not. When I told my co-workers I was headed to Asheville for Halloween weekend, I got the mandatory Carolinian response: “Awww, Asheville? Have you ever been? YOU’LL LOVE IT THERE.” With the exception of Smoopsie (Lane), no one from outside the state knew…