I traipsed across Minnesota and North Dakota through factory farms and cemeteries this summer. Trying to link childhood memories with physical locations, only to find they were gone. The only building standing seventy years later was a big white barn. Is that how long it takes for things to become unrecognizable? The span of a … Read more
Coming home, the washboard road is as close to a drumroll as we’ll get. We are bleary-eyed and dog-tired. I have a class to lead in three hours. Jolene needs to zoom in her yard like an Indy car. Mister sweeps the farm for stray cats who might need to be barked at. And the … Read more
Road trips have a feeling of being unstuck anyway, but this trip to the land of my people was like slingshot time travel. Glancing at a cloud, a memory starts foggy. Wait for the shy, buried parts to emerge. But then all the memories explode straight at you. Both slow motion and at blinding speed. … Read more
Mister is barking in a steady rhythm. His metronome bark. Consider it a warning siren. He knows. There is a look Mister gets when I grab Jolene’s leash and give him a chewy. And there is a look he gets when I head out the back door with an armful of clothes. Mister knows a … Read more