It’s supposed to get up to 97° F in Atlanta today. That’s higher than body temperature. It feels like roasting. It’s not comfortable. I sometimes think Atlanta gets so hot because of all the cement, metal, and black top in the city and surrounding area.
This probably sounds ridiculous, but I’m sure there’s got to be some truth to it. I mean, once you get into the perimeter, it’s all roads and buildings. The roads are busy absorbing the heat from the sun and the building are busy reflecting it onto those who aren’t inside.
It’s uncomfortable here, and while I’ve gotten used to it and even come to enjoy some aspects of living in Atlanta. I sure do miss the Great Smoky Mountains.
And I miss it like a child misses a recently passed relative. I yearn for it like two lovers separated by vast distances yearn for each other. I want to drink it up. I want to climb inside it. I want to immerse myself in its ataraxia.
I need a trip to the mountains.