So many beautiful familiar faces filling the main street of our small town. Walking down the middle of the road while the sidewalks are slick with ice. To the lake. Children playing and women’s voices singing Ojibwemowin on the ice. I'm glad I can linger. I stop by the farm. Lean against the woodstove and talk with my mom. Leave Oscar to nap with my dad. I don't mind the rain on the windshield as I cry to a Dear Sugar podcast while I drive to Washburn. Remember the rain in Cologne the morning the election results came in. Can't think of a better way to spend the afternoon than finishing a puzzle and eating soup with Theresa, accompanied by the chatter of Svea and one of her besties playing nearby. Leslie texts a picture of her Aunt marching in Paris and asks, "wanna be political with me?" Jen has a couple hours at home between dogsled trips and coming to meet us in town.
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AuthorsMagdalen Dale and Kaite Sweval grew up a layer apart, overlapping and paralleling. Belonging to the shores of Lake Superior and yet not quite belonging. Laughing and dreaming on the bench outside the ferry booth as Mag passed the time and Kaite chose her time. Left to explore as soon as they could. And then as adults returned home, perhaps to their surprise. But glad to have each other... ‘cause we know there is strength in the differences between us and comfort where we overlap. Archives
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