Open Features: Mountain Memories
Susan Smith Atti writes of special memories that are locked down tight in a foster mom’s heart.
I’m sure it was the sound of wonder in the girls’ voices when they first saw mountains that I’ll remember most . . .or maybe watching little Lisa attack the Appalachian Trail on Blood Mountain with a hiker’s heart. . .or Deirdre and her friend Angela (ever teenagers) digging red Georgia clay to take home to dye t-shirts. . . Then again, maybe it was Lisa charting our course from New Smyrna Beach to Blairsville, Georgia using the little atlas she had so proudly bought along the way with her own money.
Deirdre snuggled down in bed during her first night in a motel—ever, in her whole life—what a precious sight!. . .Lisa proudly running in and out of the Dahlonega General Store showing me each of her carefully selected treasures. . .Deirdre and Angela nursing stomach-aches after gobbling up too much homemade fudge from the sweets’ shop. . .the four of us belting out country songs at the top of our lungs as we drove along I-75. . .so many special memories to choose from--too many to pick just one--all locked down tight in a foster mom’s heart forever.
Back in December when Deirdre first joined our family, the idea of a short vacation to the mountains seemed like a good one. By February the honeymoon was over...Deirdre and Lisa were at each other’s throats, and I was having second thoughts about a trip. I began to feel that four days away from routine, therapists, behavior charts, and mentors would be tricky at best. But, as spring rolled on into summer, we had worked out the most troublesome kinks in our family dynamics. The vacation idea once again began to take shape.
So in mid-July, with Deirdre’s friend Angela in tow, along with CD players and headphones, maps and suitcases, a collective spirit of adventure, and a prayer for safe travel, the girls and I were off for the north Georgia mountains.
Originally, the goal was to give Lisa and Deirdre some “big memories” to take with them when they moved on in their respective lives. Little did I know that I, not the girls, would be walking away with the best memory of all. This one, like Blood Mountain, stands tall...
