Hi {{ subscriber.firstName | default('Friends') }},
Welcome to the mountains! And thank you all for reading and sharing with me during this precarious time. Ever since I was a little girl, our family has considered the mountains of North Carolina our second home. My beloved mother, whose birthday happens to be today (May 17), worked as head of Girl’s Hill at Camp Mountain Lake in Hendersonville, NC. Every summer, the four of us would pack in her old station wagon for the 13-hour drive from Miami. This was long before seat belts were required, and my siblings and I would plop ourselves in the rear for a slumber party—one of my favorite childhood memories.
Most children don’t start sleepaway camp (if ever) until at least eight or nine, but because of our mother’s position, I was thrust into the world at the age of four. I imagine at that age I had to have some anxiety about sleeping in a separate house from Mom and my siblings, and because I was so young, the girls I befriended each summer went off to the next cabin, while I remained in the same bunk (1G), too young to move up. It took me three summers to finally make it to 2G.
But the beauty of the area got me through. In the mountains, I felt safe and protected. There I was at ease amongst the windy dirt paths, the cool, mountain ranges, the sprawling lake that glimmered like glass. So it was no surprise that when my husband and I had our own children, we would return to the area during the hot, Florida summers. The lush environment was a wonderful reprieve from the heat and humidity. Here the air changes—the scent of the shrubs and flowers, the cool, misty breeze—they stabilize and restore. And the quiet! The mountains are where I reconnect with nature, breathe, and where I feel most alive.
It’s no wonder my mother’s birthday is today, and I am here, in the place she loved, the place she lovingly passed along to her children. Returning to our roots has a dual meaning. While I wish you were here with us, Mom, I feel you around me, and when the trees rustle in the wind, or a butterfly sweeps by, I know that you are.
I hope wherever YOU are, that you are breathing, finding the blessings in the simple things, and feel connected to those you love or have lost. And I hope you'll join me in wishing a terrific woman a happy birthday.
Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you.
