De Aquí y De Allá

"Look! Look!" I tap on the glass window. Green forest rolling in and out of purples, deep reds and folding across the sky. "I can't," she says, tightening her grip on the steering wheel and focusing on the winding, black asphalt snake in front of us. "I can't, it makes my heart feel small.”

The Blue Ridge Parkway rolls on for 469 miles, but we don't have the stomach. Instead, we inch along for 13 miles of it between Asheville and The Great Smoky Mountains National Park. We pull over at an overlook ahead and stumble out of the car. Walking on an incline as we approach the edge, dizzy with the vastness of everything and drunk on the cool air hitting our faces.

We watch the plumes of mist rise up from the trees and twirl up, dispersing as they hit the open air. We watch in silence, amazement and jump back in the car when our hearts slow down again. Soon the car seems to require extra encouragement with every foot we ascend. The motor’s humming echoing on the tunnel walls we pass as we make it deeper into the mountains. The windows fog and my light sweater requires the reinforcement of my bright yellow blanket. Why are we doing this now? I try to remember. It comes back to me after some time, the pictures are better at sunrise and sunset time.

Groups of motorcycles cruise past us on the narrow two lanes and I am too thankful to still have road beneath us to let any of my Miamian road rage bubble up. We pull over at another overlook not long after the first. Again, our feet lead as the rest of our body reaches back for the safety of the car. Big Witch Overlook, 4160 feet elevation the wooden sign reads. A few minutes pass and I slowly I let my eyes open fully and let my heart unfurl on my chest. A nervous laughter comes out of me. We both laugh, first tentatively, then louder. Most of the sound falls over the edge, but some of it bounces off the marbled rock wall behind us. The Parkway is an exercise in pushing forward. It humbles you and makes you soar.

We arrive at the Great Smoky Mountains National Park not long after that and drive with fields of yellow wildflowers waving at us as we pull over. The Parkway continues its swaying through the mountains for hundreds of miles more.

It’s mid-morning now, and I’m ready to try my chances with the black bears, my heart still beating in my ears. Travel does that, it should do that, make your heart beat louder. Even if after first making it feel small, especially after that.