Posted by in letters to the boys


Roots. I’m growing them, and it terrifies me. This isn’t where I want to land. The winters are too long, dark, and cold. I feel like tense from October through May. Hunched over. Protecting myself from a chill that has already found a home in me and never actually goes away. Or at least, not until June. Even in the hottest shower, in a sauna, in a room with the heat blasting, my bones feel cold at their core.

I love with color, heat, laughter, music, spice, and a bit of a wild, chaotic current that runs under, through, and between everything. Places where the sunshine makes me throw my arms open and my head back, asking anyone who will listen, “Doesn’t this feel amazing?” Places where you can look people in the eyes and see something a bit wild.

This is not Minnesota. Minnesota is reserved. Minnesota loves rules. Minnesota is a place where Shiya thinks it’s “weird” when people stand outside together, laughing loudly. In Minnesota, white Scandanavian culture dominates.

But I love people here.

I’ve been here six years, as long as I was in Pittsburgh. I own a home. My sister and her family are here. Shiya has been to three schools, I have completed a degree and started a business, I consult with people all over the region. And because of this we are growing roots. Shiya went to eight different camps this summer, and we knew someone at every single camp. We’d see kids and parents in the parking lot that we haven’t seen in years and would hug them, so happy to reconnect. On weekends, we have to turn down social events. These human connections–they’re roots.

I know roots are supposed to be good. We need solid roots to reach and grow. I just didn’t imagine I would establish them here.

So we’ll see. Do we stay here? Do we start over? How do I decide whether I stay near the people I love, near family, or I live somewhere where the spirit and the energy of the place uplifts me? Do we find a way to have this as home-base but spend significant amounts of time other places? We’ll see….