place
I'm in Michigan. Millersburg, Michigan to be very exact. It's always interesting to me to watch how I change in different locations, especially when its reflected in my clothing or speech. Today I am wearing long johns, jeans which have been carelessly shoved into large brown and black hiking boots, an undershirt, a t-shirt, a black long sleeved shirt, a flannel shirt with only two buttons together and a puffy blue vest. I left my Kenyan scarf and blue wool mittens at home. My hair, the size of my mother's in the 80s, is up in a messy bun (the back is falling down some, I think, I don't actually know). I look like a good old farm girl from the north woods of Michigan, except I'm typing on a pink Macbook and my phone just vibrated from a new text message. And I don't actually belong here, not completely. I am twenty-one years old. And being home (because I would call this home, at least my heart home, the place that means the most to me because of roots, where