5 August 2011 The Road to the Shack

When AC first took me up to the Shack–his family’s rustic retreat in the Blue Ridge Mountains of southern Virginia–I was prepared for bumpy, dirt roads. I was not, however, prepared for hurtling up through a tunnel of rhododendrons so dense and thick and narrow that the branches scraped and squeezed the side of the car. And don’t even get me started on the blind curve at the top of the ridge. It’s been nearly 20 years since that first time and AC is still laughing about how loudly I shrieked. I’m pretty sure I shrieked just as loudly this past Friday night when we drove up to the Shack. But this time, Sam was along. It was her first visit to one of her father’s favorite places in the world. All in all, she loved it. And she didn’t scream when we whipped around the blind curve. She didn’t even bat an eye. I tell myself it’s because she wasn’t in the passenger seat.