New Shoes, Clean Face

The first two days were warm-up. The classes were undergraduate; the pattern was simple and collective; the people wore nametags and first-day-of-school outfits and spoke of uncomplicated things. We were all in the mood to congratulate ourselves for being here and even the sun posed for the cover of the brochure.
And I knew it was school because Jake was by my side, driven out of Mississippi by a furious wind with a waitress' name.
Michigan, Mississippi, Massachusetts: all from a Native American root meaning "great." There was a blurring of (state) lines. His hand in my hand, my books in my backpack, his face in my mornings, my head on his shoulder. Congratulations.