Well, here I am, all the way over here in Decemberland, and what do I find? A real fine little piece of story, and a girl from my home town to boot! How small a world does that make it?

What a wonderful ficlet! Spent many a summer on the Little Pigeon wadin' in the cold mountain water and screechin' away from water moccasins, which were probably never really there, with my mean sisters letting me get to the middle of the swinging bridge that ran across it and then making it shake and bounce and sway until I sat right down and cried in terror. Ah, yeah - loved that river. Can't hardly find it any more, now that Townsend runs all the wall-to-wall way to Gatlinburg - now that it's the haze of car exhaust that puts the "smoke" in the Smokies.

*sigh*

But you have the tone oh-so-right. Mamaw and Papaw and tent quilts on the front porch, screen doors slammin and raccoons out in the yard. And little James, playin' possum, cause if you play it long enough just maybe the pain will give up on you and just go away....

I love this fic - what a surprise that I would - and I love that you are a East Tennessee girl. Just how special is that?