She was an Appalachian mountain girl raised in a log cabin. Her journey to the coast was to meet her beaus family before the wedding. Her long auburn hair hung below her waist. Mama would braid it and wind it up in a tight braid. Oh how she wanted to run bare footed down to the brook at the end of the lane. But for now she must ready her wardrobe. She picked up the dress and under garments her mother and sister had mended. Her fingers touched the stitches lovingly placed to repair the holes from many washings.
The mountains were Smokey today. She was sentimental as she looked around the cabin.
Her sweet memories from childhood
Her moms treasured purses
The road to the coast loomed in her mind.
Her sweet bedroom would be missed.
Would they take the truck?
Or the train?
Sweet roses of home
To the shells of the coast, were in her dreams.
The journey continues,
Di
