Story Time: The Georgia Hills

Darkness falls quickly in the Georgia hills. One moment you glance out the window to see the sun just starting to set on the horizon. Next you look the sky is black as pitch. The temperature drops like a brick and you can’t distinguish between your breath and the smoke wafting off the cigarette clamped between your fingers. The only tell-tale sign is the slight burning smell that arises to your freezing nose on the end of your face.

But oh, that night sky. Clear and beautiful. The lack of light and smog allow you to easily pick out all of the constellations of your childhood. These kind of nights are the best for warm cocoa, loaded to the brim with over-sized marshmallows and warm blankets wrapped around you as you sit in the grass. Snuggled against your sister, or your mother, or your lover, pointing out planets and stars in the sky. Lifting your arm as you tilt your head back to take in the splendor you once took for granted.

These are the sort of nights that are few and far between. These are the nights were troubles melt away with every sip of warm cocoa and laughs as you point up, and together connect the dots of stars in the pitch colored sky.

Darkness falls quickly in the Georgia hills. It is a thing I have missed the most.

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