Some days, I miss the sound of a gentle breeze blowing through the leaves. I miss the sound of a rain storm moving through the hollow. I miss the sound of water flowing in the creek. I miss the noise of nature.
I miss the smell of moist, fresh air. I miss the smell of smoke from a homemade fire pit. And I miss how it plays with the light as it lifts through outstretched branches.
Some days, I miss West Virginia.
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