My region. The familiar
tastes, jobs, faces, and tree-line.
My region.
The tilting of an eyebrow tells all we need to know.
That sense of “us.” This is my region.
Us. The restaurant in the gas station.
Ply-wood cabins on frozen ice.
Us. Accent and the turning of phrases, so that wherever I go, I am known as “us.”
Back to
my region
Glad you can go, Sarah! Hope your travelling buddies will be fun :)
ReplyDelete