Discoverashevillenc

05/31/2026

Cawwww! I live for these foggy Appalachian mornings.
Keep Asheville Weird.

Tarim Egerton

05/30/2026

Atlanta has rocked me to my core. I had to slip back into my safe space to refill my own cup so I can keep pouring into the two people who need me most in this world.

Don’t get me wrong. We are exactly where we need to be on this journey.

After a rocky start, things have settled. He’s fighting 💪, making friends, and receiving incredible care from some truly unsung heroes. We are beyond grateful and completely in awe.

I’ll keep burning up the miles between our Atlanta apartment and our Asheville home for as long as it takes.

But after a week of traffic, sirens, concrete, and flickering city lights, these mountains feel like medicine. The sound of water. The fresh air. The quiet….

The sunset that connects me to the night I found out about the accident. And the miracle news that he was still alive and fighting.

Perspective I never had before. I’ve spent the past week surrounded by some of the strongest people I’ve ever met. People learning to navigate life after car accidents, motorcycle accidents, plane crashes, falls, and countless other life-changing injuries. People showing more courage before breakfast than most of us show in a week.

It’s impossible to spend time in a spinal cord and brain injury rehab hospital and not have your heart changed.

So hug your people. Use your arms. Use your legs. Go to the places you love. Take the picture. Sit by the water. Watch the sunset.

And if you don’t care what happens to you… or think one quick text, one moment of distraction, or one push through a yellow light isn’t a big deal, spend one day in a rehab hospital. Just one. And tell me if you’d be okay doing this to someone else’s life.

Today, I’m grateful for world-class care in Atlanta. And everyone who made it possible.

And I’m grateful for these mountains, which somehow put my heart back together a little every time I come home.

05/30/2026

This past week in Atlanta has rocked me to my core. I had to dip back into my safe place to fill my own cup so I can keep pouring for the two that need me most in this world.

Don’t get me wrong. We are all exactly where we need to be in this crisis journey. After a rocky start, things have settled, he’s fighting, making friends, and receiving incredible care by unsung heroes. 💪

We are beyond grateful for that. And I’ll keep burning up the miles between our Atlanta apartment and our Asheville home for as long as it takes.

But after a week of traffic, sirens, concrete, and flickering lights, these mountains feel like medicine. The sound of water, the fresh air, the quiet.

The sunset that connects me to the night I found out about the accident. And hearing of the miracle that he was still alive and fighting every second.

It’s all so raw yet it all feels okay. Because even a mustard seed of faith will get through this…

This season has also given me a perspective I never had before. I’ve spent the past week surrounded by some of the strongest people I’ve ever met.

People learning how to live in completely new ways after car accidents, motorcycle accidents, plane crashes, falls, and countless other life-changing injuries.

People showing more courage before breakfast than most of us have to show in a week.

It’s impossible to spend time in a spinal cord and brain injury rehab hospital and not walk away changed.

So hug your people. Use your arms. Use your legs. Go to the places you love. Take the picture. Sit by the water. Watch the sunset.

And if you still don’t care what happens to you and you’re tempted to drive distracted or recklessly, spend one day volunteering in a rehab hospital. Just one. I promise you’ll leave with a different perspective on what can change in a single second and how much of life we take for granted.

Most of the people there are because of someone else’s actions. I cannot imagine the guilt I’d carry if I were responsible for doing this to another soul.

Today, I’m grateful for world-class care in Atlanta.
And I’m grateful for these mountains waiting to welcome me home we I need to run here fo

05/10/2026

18 day update.

There’s so much I want to say, and I keep trying to get updates and information out while also trying to catch up on work because we still have contracts this month. I especially want to thank everyone who hired me before all of this happened and is currently waiting on work from me. I have been at Mission every single day since this happened. Every day.

Thank you for being patient, understanding, and giving me grace during a time where my focus has simply had to be on my son. It means more than you know.

This month is Motorcycle Awareness Month, and we are also in Nurses Week. Both of those sit so deeply on my heart right now.

Please look twice. Save a life.

The person on that motorcycle is someone’s baby, someone’s heart, someone’s family. Someone is waiting for them to come home. And it is absolutely devastating when they don’t.

And these nurses… there are nurses at Mission ICU who have literally held my body up while I held my son. There are nurses who have been my rock while still carrying the weight of their jobs and taking care of Aiden at the same time.

We have cried together. We have pushed through together. I will never forget that kind of love and care.

It is still so hard to believe that 18 days ago I walked in and my son was unrecognizable. Every day in the beginning seemed to bring more bad news as they discovered more injuries and more complications. He was critical.

And now, somehow, we are finally starting to hear more good news. We are watching him overcome things that once felt impossible.

There are still very serious concerns ahead of him, and this road is still long, but we are so grateful for every bit of progress, every ounce of hope, and how hard he is fighting.

Thank you for the prayers, the support, the donations that have allowed me to stay by his side, the meals for my family, the messages, the encouragement, the signs on Charlotte Highway, and every person who has shown up for us in some way.

Seeing those signs now makes me smile. In the beginning, I cried the whole drive down that road.
Fairview is just special. Fairview takes care of its own. And I just wanted to say thank you for taking care of us.

05/07/2026

Today marks two weeks since the accident.

Two weeks since my son was plowed into by a delivery truck while riding his motorcycle. Two weeks of ICU, hard conversations, prayers, fear, hope, and trying to process something that still does not feel real.

It still feels surreal sitting beside him, holding his hand while he fights for his life.

As we move forward with the beautiful content planned for this page so that you can get the most out of this place we dearly call home, please know I’ll continue sharing updates about Aiden’s journey because this community has carried us in ways I cannot even begin to explain.

But moments like this remind me why I created this page in the first place: to share my deep love affair with the Carolinas. The mountains. The people. The resilience. The beauty that somehow still exists even in the middle of tragedy.

And honestly, right now, that beauty is keeping me going. Keep sending me your sunsets, your lake days, your recovery…. It’s all testimony to my shattered heart right now and it’s keeping me going.

Because while Aiden is fighting inside those four hospital walls, I keep thinking about all the beauty waiting for him when he finally gets back outside them.

Which brings me to something truly hopeful today. 🧡

After so much devastation from Hurricane Helene, Lake Lure has officially begun a phased reopening. After months and months of cleanup, rebuilding, and recovery, the lake is finally welcoming people back again.

We have all watched this community walk through so much messy and ugly over the last year and a half. Loss. Destruction. Uncertainty. And yet somehow, beauty still found its way back to the surface.

This news feels like a big win for Western North Carolina.

And maybe a reminder for all of us that even after unimaginable devastation, there can still be life waiting on the other side.

Thank you for your continued thoughts, prayers and support. Just when I thought I couldn’t love this place anymore, you all show up and expand my heart in ways I never thought possible. Thanks for holding me and my family. This community is so precious to me.

Get out there and live your life, dear ones.

04/28/2026

Link in bio.

04/27/2026

https://gofund.me/2c4a9190b

Dear friends, family, and community, We are reaching out to you… Shelby Holzhauser needs your support for Standing with Aiden and Family in This Dire Time