A sheet of sand shifted on the trail and slid down over Julie’s shoes.
Her first thought was: I can’t believe mom is leading the way.
Her second, and more powerful thought was: I can’t believe mom is hiking at all.
Grandma had passed in her sleep and left behind a small savings, a few decent pieces of jewelry and a well-cared-for vintage bike.
But Mom had found a trove of diaries no one knew about.
Mom went through them and made some discoveries within the diaries. Then she decided to concoct a summer travel itinerary based on the diary entries.
They had already gone to Pittsburgh, where they visited Grandma’s childhood home, grade school, high school, and the site of a few ice cream parlors and skating rinks which were now department of transportation driver’s license offices and home improvement stores.
Now they were headed up a hill in a small state park near the Ohio border.
Mom was sweating too much for Julie’s liking, but probably better than not sweating at all.
Mom had notes on the view that she had copied from Grandma’s diary, and a little compass she found somewhere. Julie thought it was cute, but was glad she had a phone with a GPS.
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