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“Emily Evans.” A woman waved at me, holding a sign with my name.
I immediately recognized her.
Nadia.
She was the director of the program and had planned on driving me out to the cabin I’d be staying at and showing me around the small mountain town.
“So good to see you,” Nadia said, looking behind me at my carry-on bag. “Is that all you brought?”
I laughed and nodded. “I’m a light packer.”
“You’d have to be.”
“Okay, right this way. It’s a little over an hour to where you’ll be staying. Everyone is so excited to meet you. Your words have touched a lot of people, and they can’t wait to pick your mind and hear all about your process.”
“My process?” I hadn’t meant to say that aloud. “Oh, it’s a pretty simple one.”
“You’re just being humble.”
I suddenly craved to be back on the plane with Cecilia where I didn’t have to impress anyone. It had never occurred to me that these people would expect something more of me than I had to give.
I had no process.
I just…
Sat down and wrote.
But I was here now, and I’d better come up with something.
As we made our way to her car, I thought about what the next few months would look like. I glanced at Nadia and hoped she couldn’t see right through me.
That I was an imposter dressed in a poet’s cloak.
I buckled as she turned on the car, and I looked out the window.
She spoke of the cabin, her coworkers, students, and the little bookstore where I’d be giving readings, and all the while, my mind swirled with thoughts I couldn’t contain.
But as we drove along the winding road, the mountains began to rise into a beauty I wasn’t ready for.
Even though the sun was already beginning to set, the vision in front of me was surreal as the majestic mountains imposed their glory upon the landscape.
The clouds looked like ruffled feathers dusting the peaks of the glorious mountaintops.
“You should roll down the window. It smells incredible out here,” she said, turning toward me.
“Yeah?”
She nodded as I did just that. A crisp sweetness teased my senses as I let my hands slide into the blowing air.
I closed my eyes and took it in, smelling the aromas of the Great Smoky Mountains, and I knew precisely why Grandma Cecilia loved this place.
I blinked my eyes open so I wouldn’t miss a second more.
An awareness of humility scraped over me as I dared to trespass on nature’s most beautiful poem of all. The massive vastness of land stretched before me with peaks and valleys struggling to capture nature’s beautiful hues that clashed with the awareness of what lay ahead of me. The rolling hills and mysterious valleys beckoned my imagination, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was where I belonged.
“And here we are,” she said, glancing at me.
It hadn’t even felt like fifteen minutes, let alone an hour.
