As someone who often feels out of place in this big ol’ city of Charlotte, I talk a lot about my mountain roots. Let’s be honest, I miss Asheville and would probably move back there at the drop of a hat if the right opportunity came along.
Until then, though, I’ll be down here in the Queen City daydreaming of the rolling hills of Carolina and escaping on weekend getaways to my hometown when I am able.
This past weekend happened to be one of those special times. As I mentioned last year, Highland Brewing’s Cold Mountain Saturday has become somewhat of a tradition for Justin, myself, and two of our very best friends. If you follow me, you know that I am a North Carolina beer chaser. Therefore, when the holy grail of craft brews is released every winter, there is no way I am going to miss that celebration. Continue reading “Mountain weekends”
I’m all about making memories and creating traditions we can enjoy for years to come. Last weekend was one of those perfect times when everything falls into place — laughs were long and plenty, the beer was good and the friends were even better.
Continue reading “Cheers to new traditions”
It was Monday Morning, shortly after 8 a.m. I had just unlocked my office door, pulled my chair out from under my desk and taken a seat in front of my computer screen. There was nothing out of the ordinary about this Monday, except the unwavering urge to go home. No, not the place where I eat, sleep and watch Netflix for 15 hours at a time. I’m talking about home.
For me, going home isn’t about a good southern meal on the stove. I’m sure if my mom were still alive that would be different — going home might actually feel like going back to childhood then.
When I vocalize that I just need to go home, it’s because I’ve reached a breaking point; because I’ve been fighting a battle within myself and I need to retreat to a safe place to quiet my mind and recharge my soul.
Going home isn’t about the people I’ll visit when I roll into town, but about the person I become when I see the first peak in the distance as the wheels on my car carry me west on Interstate 40. All of sudden, a weight is lifted off my shoulders and I’m just me again — I’m a simpler human. Going home means finding peace, even if it is only for two days.
Continue reading “Sorry Tom, But You Can Go Home Again”