Cross That Mountain

Whether it be the journey through the winding roads of Pine Mountain or those endless roads to Harlan, something reminds me of home. Whether it’s the taste of my nanny’s grilled cheeses or the sound of my family sharing jokes around a Thanksgiving table, something reminds me of home. Whether it’s the smell of the Appalachian pines or the sight of my baby cousins ripping apart presents on Christmas, something reminds me of home.
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Many things remind of my small town in Kentucky. Eolia is the name that rolls off my tongue when someone asks me about where I’m from. “All the way ‘cross that mountain?” Yes, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Pine Mountain changes every single day you go across it. I notice something different about it each time I drive the fifteen mile road. This mountain is my favorite part of Kentucky.

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