Above That Beautiful Blue Lake Michigan


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Memories are deep within, their surface but a screen — a cover.
Like Lake Michigan’s deep water, my memories are deep too.
Chicago is home. Home in a way that is pig tails and cotton candy 4-H fairs. Home in the arms of my fire engine red red-headed mother.

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We went to many meals at Glen Oak– nestled deep in vinyl maroon booths. Nestled in the nest of childhood. I had breakfast here this morning– feeling memory sleeves coat my arms. Warmth and cover. I could smell my mother’s cigarettes in memory alcoves as we always sat in the smoking section anywhere we went.

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Well got to run. The train is pulling into downtown. I am home.