Right now, even if you are not that far away, there is something terrible that has gone unspoken. Right here, in these letters, I need to let loose my heart from all of the awful tragedy it has known lately. Right over there, over some imaginary lines and miles of land, there is a large group of people and a place that are hurting so much more than you even realize. Right this moment, in the space of time you are reading this, I can no longer hold in all of the things I need to talk about. Right where you are, anywhere that may be, I hope you listen and decide to speak up with me.

I hail from a beautiful small town in the Cherokee National Forest, a place filled with the wonders of nature, the preservation of the history and the majesty of a town kept safe from flame by men and women who are unpaid civil servants. This isn't uncommon in tiny towns, even some of the larger ones have volunteer fire departments. My town is a mountain community covered in a glorious cloak of green vegetation, or it was until the rain abandoned my sleepy little town and left them severely dry and begging for rain after a year with barely anything. There are many other towns in six surrounding states in the same condition as mine. The green cloak that shrouded the mountains and fields of my mountains turned brown and began to crinkle underfoot and echo under hand as if the grass were made of paper and the trees of hollow tubes. This was the case everywhere that was under the dry skies that never seemed to cry a single drop for over a year. The paper grass and hollow tubes did not fare the volunteers who fought the fire well, and they have had to fight the angry red monsters that they couldn't keep from popping up constantly and endlessly for months, since October, growing harder and harder to fight them since.

Lately there are more angry fires in more tiny towns that you haven't heard of, and they’ve been fighting harder and harder, too. When everyone began to make plans for Thanksgiving, they had to pick up a shovel and start digging because a machine couldn’t do it. A machine couldn't dig here where the Trail of Tears lay, and so those men and women dug every day to draw lines in the mountainside that would tell the growing, raging fire exactly where it could stay. They worked and worked with shovel and hand and hose; the 125 of them worked until they were exhausted to the core of their very soul. Then, that fire they had worked hard to defeat decided to go ahead and see what was on the other side of that handmade fence. It grew from a little, troublesome preteen fire to a full-grown, ranting one, the kind that pushes past the line that's been patiently waiting because it wants to be in the front. Fires like that don’t care if you haven't had any lunch or you have family coming up. That fire took the firefighter from his plans when it went and jumped the gun. It took a lot from the people as the smoke settled on top of them like a wool blanket on a summer afternoon, smothering and oppressive. That ash and smoke covered crew, the always on hand bunch from pretty much everywhere, took the Trail of Tears from a burning hazard to one that is safe for many more years.

It was right around a time for thanks and family; it was supposed to be a time of joy. It was supposed to be leftovers and taking the Christmas boxes out of storage. It was supposed to be joyful and a time of celebrating what you have, but, instead, some people lost so much that it's overwhelming. The best time of the fall season became a sinkhole full of the sorrow and pain that comes with complete, utter devastation. The first to slip out of the reach of our hands were children as a school bus carrying those from a nearby elementary school crashed. The children were trapped onboard the bus from an extended time as they had to be rescued one by one from the back to the front; emergency personnel worked tirelessly and with all their hearts to get all the children to safety off the bus now on its side. Six young lives were tragically lost, and many little lives are forever affected. The parents, siblings, families, teachers, emergency personnel and community are in shock still. We are trying even now to reach those children that we just can't believe have gone on past us and into this sinkhole of devastion so filled with pain and suffering as they recover from injuries sustained. The sinkhole was surrounded by the cries of mothers who had children on that bus and the screams of children trapped onboard when something very different happened. The devastation sinkhole grew larger. Another fire tore its way through the mountains, but this time it was uncontrollable and unstoppable. This time, it was in a populated area, the Sevier County region which includes Sevierville, Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg. This time, the hatred and burning rage of the fire damaged or destroyed everything it could get to. People fled through smoke as thick as what the forests used to be and flames as high as the trees used to stand at. Thousands of people were forced to leave behind their entire lives with hope that it may still be there and hope that they might have something left to start over with eventually. Some do not even have their safety, as thirteen have perished and countless others are injured in the shadow of the flames. The sounds of crying and the searching voices of loved ones ring out in the shelters as the crackling flames and screams of the fleeing join the voices of Chattanooga in the widened devastation sinkhole that just keeps pulling more people into its grasps. Thousands in two different communities cry out from the depths of their sorrow and their loss within East Tennessee, but it isn't over, not even after all this in a week, not even after a crash and a natural disaster. More were dragged down into the depths of the sinkhole when, on Tuesday night, two separate tornados touched down in McMinn and Polk County, destroying homes, businesses, taking two lives and injuring others. The tornados came out of rain long hoped and prayed for, and they licked the ground with a force unlike any seen in years. The sheer power of the storm tore apart trees across the area as well as in the surrounding counties, knocked out power to tens of thousands, took down an entire transformer tower, flooded areas, caused closed schools because children could not get out due to the damage and, in Polk County, a volunteer fire department that has been battling the blazes with their fellow departments lost their fire hall with an engine still inside it. The voice of the storm as it brought the little rain and shrieked through the towns with destructive winds and tore apart anything in its path now joins the catastrophic cacophony of chaos that has fallen into the sinkhole of devastation. East Tennessee has suffered at the hands of two ceaseless months of wildfires, an unimaginable crash, terrifying fires and tornados, and it is deeper than I had ever imagined one place could be. The people in East Tennessee have been hit harder than they have been hit before. They are hurting now more than they have ever hurt before.

To the firefighters: it's hard to fight for so long, but we know how amazing you truly are. We believe that you can keep going because you are all composed of more capability, as well as strength, than you would ever think you had.

To the victims of the bus crash and their loved ones: it's hard to see those you love that are so young end up in this, but we will help you in any way you need us to because no one should go through this alone.

To the victims of the Sevier County fire: it's hard to come back from such utter loss at the hands of a fire, but we know you will be able to rebound from this even better than you were before because you will be stronger now.

To the victims of the McMinn and Polk County tornados: it's hard to pick up the pieces after that kind of terror rips through, but we know you can rebuild and restore your communities because you can do anything when a community becomes one for a cause.

We are grateful as a whole for each and every firefighter who has worked on the fires that have plagued the area and for what you have been doing for East Tennessee. We are keeping all the victims in all in our thoughts in wake of these many disasters; you will be in our thoughts and prayers for as long as you need it. We are hopeful as you begin to rebuild your communities; people will rise as one to help you when you are in need of it. We stand with you from all over the state and across the country through this; no one is ever alone in this world and the rest of us will be here with you through it all. We will continue to have you in our hearts as you carry on into your future efforts; there is no I in team, and we are a team. If we can do nothing else, we will keep you in our hearts as long as you continue to hurt. We are one Tennessee and one America, strong and solid as you build your way back up like we have done across this land many times before. We know you can get through this, and we will be here if you need a helping hand or a few words of encouragement to know we still think of you. We will be one with those in East Tennessee, today and every day, until there is no more devastation and no signs of destruction left.