Past Travelers Rest and up into the winding mountain road that is Geer Highway, my Grandma's home sits on fifty beautiful acres. My childhood was spent here, next to the old rusty car my uncles used to target practice, and the small cinderblock building where you can drink fresh mountain spring water from the creek (we call it the "catch box").
And when you're sitting in Grandma's living room, listening to her stories of how she used to sew dresses for all the women of downtown Greenville, time seems to stop.
