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I live in Michigan.

I originated “down state,” but I grew up “up north.”

I don’t think anybody knows for sure where “up north” starts, but where I live now is considered “down state,” but it’s not as far down the mitten as where I started.

Up north starts for me where the trees line the interstate, where I feel that familiar tug when my roots tangle with theirs. Where the air grows rich and heavy and sweet with memories. I see water shimmer between the cracks. We cross the county line, and then I see where my grandparents’ restaurant used to stand. My heart beats faster. We pass the Call of the Wild. I used to work there.

I was born in Dearborn. We moved up north when I was four. My parents bought a teeny house and four log cabins on a small lake. I spent most of my growing-up years there.

I was up north last week. But a dozen miles further north to Gaylord where my dad and sister and brother live now, to the place where I walked the aisle in cap and gown, to the place where I was married.

I went home . . .

 

I’m visiting my friend Charity Singleton Craig’s online home today. Won’t you pop on in and join us? She’s got coffee perking and tea steeping. There might even be popovers and fresh strawberry jam.

Oh, and did you know Charity and Ann Kroeker have teamed up to turn out a book about the writing life that’ll be published by T.S. Poetry Press? I took their class, and believe me, this will be good.

In the stillness,

Sandy

Linking up with Bonnie.

Be sure to check out her post and learn how you can win a custom watercolor painting of your home!

 

And with Holley.