Michigan to Montana

THE DRIVE

My mother and I couldn’t get over it.  We were inside the patchwork landscape, entirely different from flying over it, and I for one was terrified.  ”Where do they buy things?” My mother wanted to know.  ”They must drive an hour each way to the store.”  

The Cows, numerous as they were, never failed to make my heart explode in my chest.  All in all, a boring three days.

ARRIVAL 

Missoula is completely unreal.  There are tiny bookstores and independently owned coffee shops all over the place.  People ride bicycles along paths designated for them.  There’s a river with some sort of summer time festival alongside it where children frolic with balloons tied around their wrists and people clap along to the music.  I’m suspicious that the girl in the flowing dress with flowers in her hair is a paid actress.  There’s no sales tax, so a 64$ pair of Birkenstocks actually cost 64$.  I think everyone’s phone number here starts with 555.  

Right now I’m an impostor, but for once, I feel like I’d like to fit in.   We’ll see how that goes.

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