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September 11, 2013
Not sure which road trip it was. I was a teenager. I believe we were taking mountain highways to Nashville, Tenessee. After aweing at the landscape, being raised in unexciting flatlands, I was rocked asleep to the winding of the roads. My eyes fluttered open to a Winter Wonderland. A town built of bricks and up and around hills and dips, streetlights lit in the dusk, breakfast houses and inns all around. People walking fast in the drizzling snow, yet they seemed unbothered, tucked into their heavy coats. I was not in Florida for sure. And it was utter perfection.