Leaving, leaving, leaving, I hate leaving my home. My roots are being pulled from the ground.

     The plants are all moved in safe and sound. Sarah will watch over them while I’m gone.

      Still I hate leaving Door County in the winter. My friends that stay they will get to enjoy the quiet beauty of winter. They will create in quiet contemplation whilst I am being buffeted by people in cities. Flown in planes and jostled by waves to other side of the world. Yes it will be an adventure and I’m glad I’m going but I know I’ll be even more glad to return home. There is no place like home.

First stop Minneapolis. My old home 510 12th Avenue. First morning I reach into my suitcase. ‘n. I checked to see if the closest store was open, and hurried down three flights of stairs, out into the cold. I turned left on 12th street, then left again on 5th Avenue. St Lawrence church was on my left as it had always been. Suddenly, I was in the past 55 years ago hurrying so I wouldn’t be late to class at Marshall High School. Past the familiar St. Lawrence church lurked a huge building filling parking lot, the street and the space that was Marshall High School. I wrapped my coat tighter around bracing against the wind and all the time that had passed. My mind jumped back to the present, it’s 2017 not 1963, and I’m hurrying to buy a brush there where my high school once stood is a Target. How convenient, how sad.

       I mentioned to the clerk, “I’m buying a brush at my high school, ” feeling a bit ironic.

       She looked puzzled. “I didn’t know it was a high school. What school did you go to.?”

     “I went to Marshall High school.”

     “Oh that’s why they call them Marshall apartments, ” she smiled back happy to know some history.

     We are history, and we need to share it.  It’s a brave new world out there and we need to be brave to negotiate it.