washing out the smell of smoke in the shower, lathering in the fruity scent of new beginnings as you wash away the hazy memories of the night. memories of stinging eyes and burning wood and glowing embers blowing in the breeze. of trees with bark so white and wood so thin, reaching up and up higher into the dark night, of stars so bright and countless, embedded in the endless blackness of the sky. of graduated boy scouts stacking wood in the pit, swinging the mini hatchet like lumberjacks. of jumper cables sparking and the stray stick that became the olympic torch. of the long windy road that only went up, twisting around the mountain, and sitting with homemade rolls in bellies and the kick from the chili still simmering on tongues. of numb fingers strumming and chords skimming over the guitar strings, tentative voices getting lost in the wind and growing louder as more join in song. of your little community from home, hours away from the woods of georgia, but still feeling like you could belong there.
Sincerely, mad
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