It's "see you later" not "goodbye"

I leave tomorrow around lunchtime CDT. Then I arrive back on the island around eight pm HST. Tonight, I'm just sentimental and a little sad. But what makes it easier is that Zac understands. He feels the same about his family and where he's from. He hates leaving NE as much as I do MN.

Originally I had planned on coming back to MN for a week. Zac, in his infinite wisdom, told me that a week isn't enough and that I needed to come back for two. Zac has been away from home longer than I, and sure enough, his advice was correct. Even with the two weeks I felt a little rushed to get "everything" and "everyone" in. I missed connecting with some people. I did connect with others. I got to spend a lot of time with my parents, my sister, my brother (in law) and my nephew. I'm happy with what I got accomplished, but even if I had stayed a month I'm sure there are things I wouldn't have been able to do. Time just flies by.

People that know me, know this: I love Minneapolis. It's my city. Especially my little southeastern quadrant of it. I miss the city and it's streets and avenues like I would miss a friend. It's a beautiful city - a green, urban center of activity and serenity.

I decided to walk from my sister's house to my parent's house on Monday. It was really nice outside and I needed a few minutes to myself. It's a little less than three miles between their houses so I figured it would take me a little less than an hour. A friend mentioned to me recently that sometime she finds herself planning so much for the future that she feels like she's missing the present. So as I walked, I tried to take the time to smell the roses. I enjoyed myself. I spent time actually watching squirrels decipher bird feeders. I appreciated how green Minneapolis is with its tree-lined boulevards. I inhaled the last remaining scent of lilacs. I navigated around sprinklers that spilled water onto the sidewalk.

I walked past city parks (as they occur every few blocks), a municipal golf course that has been there since 1929, an array of different homes that scoff at the beige monotony of suburban houses, kids playing in front yards and back yards, kids riding bikes, people with dark brown skin and pale white skin and lots of shades in between, past small businesses that have been there for years and new ones that have popped up in the nine months I've been gone. It was 53 minutes of happiness.

Someone I know said to me the other day, "You're going home in 48 hours!" They don't get it. I am home - I'm going back to where I live. They are not always the same thing.