Ever since I was a child, the grass irritated my ankles. To combat this, I would wear socks when walking in the grass, leaving green stains on white cotton. Here the world looked safe. The sun was hot, striking my skin until it was a dark red. Blueberries crushed against the pads of my fingers. Their juice became stickier as the heat began to rise. I wanted to feel the grass beneath my feet. So I dumped the bucket of berries on the ground and started jumping on them. The berries became little sticky fireworks. My feet sunk deep into the berries. Grass began to grow between my toes, tangling around my ankles. Eventually roots took hold of my toes, and the grass wound up my wrists. I was anchored; I was green. Worms squirmed between the roots, and wild plants sprouted near my knees. Flowers wove in my hair and bees came to collect pollen.

– Hannah Warren