Momma didn’t really know why we were going on this trip. From the quiet comfort of Tom’s sleek new car, fall gold hickories and evergreen pine forests blurred by on country roads. Every once in a while, we glimpsed a remnant barn— once in a pasture, now crowded by trees. The roads in this part of the country seem lonely. When Momma was young, these were busy roads. When we passed a little piece of woods she still owns, I asked about it.
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