Boundaries; Every State Line

Just the mention of a place, in this case a state, can bring up so many memories and feelings. Some are memories you unwillingly forgot, some are ones you’re fighting to forget because the memory is just too unbearable.

Michigan is my home, born and raised. When someone says “Michigan” I think of family, I think of the lakes, and I think of my childhood. For me, Michigan is that boyfriend I can’t get over, no matter what happens, I always come crawling back. I have left Michigan time and time again, but my roots are in Michigan and that is something hard to leave behind.

You say “Texas” and you’ll see me cringe. You may not recognize it, but inside of me something is fighting hard to repress the memories Texas holds. I keep telling myself that to forgive is to forget, and maybe, someday, I will have the courage to go to that god-forbidden hell hole of a state again. The state where the dry heat of the day sucks all of the air inside of your lungs and watches as you gasp for more. The state where the cold of the personalities that live there taunt you each day until the only happiness left is forgotten. The state where the sight of a snake could mean life and death, and the forbidden fruit is the truth. My mother chose to move to Texas after I had come back home to Michigan and I haven’t been able to visit her since. Perhaps the state itself isn’t at fault for my memories or the tears that go with them. Actually, it really isn’t at all, but the people who do hold the fault will never take responsibility, therefore making it easier to blame Texas.

 “I don’t understand why we have to leave.” I said glumly.

“Same. No one wants to leave anyway, it’s just not fair.” Branwyn interjected.

“I have to say, I agree with those two. This is our home.” Rand chimed in.

“We are NOT going over this again. Anyhow, if you guys don’t move now I’m afraid you’ll be in Michigan forever.” Lisa said, trying to justify uprooting the family to the southern-most part of the continental US from Northern Michigan.

“I’d like to get off the roof, I’m sick of the snow, Lisa would like to live in Florida, and you guys are the children so you do as we say.” My father stated.

“I have left Michigan multiple times, and who’s to say we will be here forever if we don’t leave right this instance?!” I quickly regretted my statement as I saw the looks coming from Lisa and my father. They could be so difficult and selfish sometimes.

“I think we should at least wait until I graduate.” Rand added, obviously not aware that we were pushing it by having the balls to argue with our parents. You see, Rand could get away with this type of thing, but me…no chance in hell I would push it any further, I knew better.

        Say Florida. Hell, just THINK Florida. What do you see? What comes to mind? Oranges? The ocean? Drugs? Vacation? Mangroves? Disney World? Terrible driving? Beaches? Dirt apples? The truth is… Florida and I go way back. My first vacation I went to Disney World with my mother in the third grade, it was great.  Then when I was a junior my step-mother and my father decided to move the family to Key Largo. Key Largo, where the smell of mangroves in the morning causes involuntary vomit. If I had to choose a catch-phrase for Key Largo, that would be my choice. I mean, Florida really isn’t that terrible of a place, the ocean reflects light quite nicely and the oranges have a neon tint to them like a fake-bake gone wrong. Sure the people don’t know how to drive, but would you be able to drive with a semi-functional-brain that was fried from all the snow that keeps falling up? …I didn’t think so. My biggest problem with Florida isn’t all the high lowlifes, it’s the apples. Seriously, the apples taste like they were dipped in glue and then rolled in dirt. In order to get a decent apple you needed to buy a Michigan apple (Imagine that! A MICHIGAN apple) that was ridiculously over-priced, or close your eyes and tell yourself it was just an apple flavored clump of dirt and be okay with it. Maybe I’m leading you on to believe that I dislike Florida. It’s not that, Florida isn’t all that bad. The Key’s aren’t all that impressing, however. I suppose had circumstances been a little better while I lived in Key Largo I would have a different outlook on everything that happened down there. Not everything was terrible, the fishermen were fun, work was interesting to say the least, and I had a blast analyzing all of the different personalities I ran into down there. Florida is the last place I have been, so far, that isn’t Michigan and maybe that has everything to do with my feelings toward that poor state. I’d be lying if I said I miss it.

“and every state line

there's a new set of laws

and every police man

comes equipped with extended claws

there's a thousand shades of white

and a thousand shades of black

but the same rule always applies

smile pretty, and watch your back”

--Every State Line

~Ani DiFranco