Here, There, and Everywhere

Got back from Minneapolis late yesterday afternoon. Everything at home is exactly as I left it.

Embroidery thread still covers the little table beside the red leather chair from which I appliqued hearts and flowers onto Katie's quilt.

My bathroom counter are still covered with jars and bottles and bits and pieces of things I've been too frenzied to put away.

The refrigerator still needs to be cleaned out. Desperately.


When I lived in MN, I thought of going to MO as going "home." After all, my folks live here. It's the state where I was born. It's where I grew up (after a fashion).

After moving to MO, I began to refer to MN as "home." "I'm going home next week" meant returning to Minnesota. "It's cold at home today," indicated an arctic front 500 miles from my house.

A lot of things in Minneapolis are exactly as I left them. Our old house still squats squarely on the same suburban lot. The Mississippi River still shapes the state. Traffic is still snarled for hours each day.

A lot of things have changed. The Guthrie Theatre gathered its kit and flounced away from The Walker Art Gallery. No longer anyone's dependent, The Guthrie now occupies a magnificent blue building with three auditoriums, elegant restaurants, cocktail lounges, and stunning views of the river.

The bridge that once carried 35W over the river is history. Literally. Millions watched its demise on CNN last summer. Now thousands of drones buzz furiously, day and night, night and day, creating structure from chaos.

Speaking of chaos, all the news anchors have changed. Not a single familiar face, not one familiar voice. Cosmic music played, chairs shuffled, and the people I knew moved on to bigger markets...or smaller markets...or other lives.

Moving to another life is both easier and harder than it seems at first. Navigating the changes you see is the easy part. Accepting the ones that happen while you're not looking is much, much harder.