My grandparents took me on a drive through the mountains to Tennessee over fall break. It snowed once we crossed the border, and I huddled in the backseat under an ugly kitty blanket and listened to stories they've told me a dozen times before. When I think that I may not have more moments like this with them, driving around corners of the country, it scares me. When I leave, these will probably be my favorite memories. I know that I rarely talk about my family on here (or anywhere, ever), but the small bits of family I have are buried in my heart deeper than almost anything. I'm scared to leave them.
The first two pictures are of their house in the mountains. The last one is an overlay of Donielle from two days later, on top of another mountain.