Eight days before my dad’s last birthday, one of my nephews got married. Rick and I made the six-hour drive from Minnesota to attend the late-summer event, and as we did in those days, we stayed with my parents in their condo. The lodgings weren’t ideal—we slept on...
Most Minnesota mornings find one of us walking the dog. Zuzu takes the lead, ears bobbing and curlicue tail flipped over her back as she trots down the sidewalk of her choice—and yes, she does have an opinion. One of my favorite routes takes us along a cornfield...
June has started on the cool side this year, delaying the official start to summer for me: the first day of strawberry season. As soon as I hear that the strawberry field is open, I’ll be there. By midday, two flats of bright red berries will have taken over our...
We vacuum religiously at our house. Dusting is another story, but you wouldn’t know it from our shelf full of dusting supplies: fuzzy blue Norwex dusting mitts, a California Duster, cans of Endust and Pledge, a Swiffer duster, and a pile of rags big enough to suds the...
We went to the site together, you and I— I drove you there to inspect the stone, newly placed. The summer sun was bright, your grassy spot speckled with shade. You stood six feet back, shoes planted near their final resting place. Six feet of summer green and creeping...
It’s Father’s Day week. In honor and memory of my dad, I’ve been drinking out of one of his mugs. I think I gave it to him for Christmas 2004—at the end of one of the most difficult years of my life. By Christmastime I was halfway through my first year as a graduate...
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