Saturday, June 13, 2015


I was was walking the dog in a light rain early this morning and thinking that it's the first morning I've been able to breathe all week. My lungs and the climate just don't seem to match very often. Then that business trip I took to Tucson some years back popped into my mind. My chief memory of that week or so is sepia. It was winter and everyone was wearing shorts and I felt I should have been enjoying the respite from the Minnesota winter more, but everything was so sepia. When the plane home was circling the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport, I looked down out of the window and felt a sudden and strong rush of relief at the sight of all the evergreens. Minnesota is full of evergreen trees. From the sky, clump after clump of green against the snow. And green has so many shades. Even in the dead of winter, no one has ever described Minnesota as sepia.

That having been said, that's the only time I've ever felt a rush of love for Minnesota. And it wasn't really for Minnesota, it was for the color. 

I've always felt there was somewhere else I was meant to be. Always. Never have seen where. Never have been any place and felt at home. Perhaps it's just because I have been adrift in the universe for so long, no ties, no one expects me anywhere, no roots.