Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Fargo/Minneapolis

We just finished a whirlwind week of Minneapolis including a family reunion with my mother's side (who mostly live in Fargo). Henry had a hard time leaving. There was a point when we were walking to the car where he just froze. He literally was too sad to take another step. When we got into the car, he silently wept with tear running down his cheeks.  He wasn't angry at us for leaving, he was just grieving. Grief for what is there and not here.

I understand that. Growing up we always went to Fargo to see family, and I always hated to leave. When I was in Medical School I had a creative writing session (I know, how awesome is that), and I wrote something then I would like to include here. I titled it "Fargo"

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For the past few weeks, I had been in heaven. That summer my family packed up our minivan and traveled up I-94 to reach our destination: Fargo. It was everything I wanted. My favorite cousin, Chris was 10 years old and less than a year older than me. We did everything together; we spied on our older cousins trying to figure out what girls did that took so long (I had no idea), we tainted ice cubes with every flavor extract we found, and we played Michael Jackson with our youngest cousins only to ditch them a few minutes later. All my relatives gathered at my grandparent's house. It was two stories plus an attic and a basement. The attic held all our Christmas presents and was strictly off limits (which made it even more enticing to break into). The basement had mysterious closets and a hidden, dirty, waterless toilet, which was the backdrop for the perfect haunted house with only the addition of blankets and ketchup. I loved Fargo!

Sadly, our two weeks were up, and soon it was time to return to our solitary life in Minneapolis. I sad down with my family, eating my Cheese-Whiz white bun waiting for the sign. There it was. My dad headed upstairs and retrieved my little brother's suitcase. The departure was beginning and I wanted no part of it.

I quietly left the main floor and headed upstairs. I slipped into the purple room, hid under the bed and waited. My hope was that my parents would forget about me and leave without me. I heard the strong voices laughing downstairs and I wondered what they were talking about. I lay closer to the floor to see if I could figure it out. No, only mumbles. They were carrying on without me. They didn't even know I was gone. This might work. I laid flat on my back in silence.

My mind leaves me and races down the carpeted steps where I slid down on my belly so many times I got rug burn, past the front entryway into the main floor. I see all the men in on room, watching a baseball game. The women are in the kitchen and dining room, eating, cooking and cleaning up. My cousins are running around in circles through the middle of the house with swords under their shirts with the handles sticking out behind their necks. I want so much to be a part of them, but I can only watch. My mind enters the basement through the kitchen stairs. There, more of my cousins are on the trampoline and playing cards. I want to jump, I want to be happy.

Then reality slaps me "Laura," I hear my mother yell. She hasn't forgotten me. I can hear her foot steps around the house searching for me. I realize then, that my mother would never forget me. I cannot avoid it, so I crawl out.

"Laura, it's time to go."

"I know."

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We just finished reading the book "Middlesex" and were supposed to write something in that style. The book is very descriptive and flips from past to present tense a lot, so that was my style for the piece. Reading it now, there would be a couple of things I would fix and rephrase, but not too much. Thinking back to how I felt in Fargo makes me empathize even more for little Hanky. He got over it pretty well. We talked about who was in Kansas City and all the fun things we do, and eventually he perked up.

He went to bed perfectly tonight but took a little bit to fall asleep. About 10 minutes after I put him to bed, he called out to me and asked me the date. I told him it was August 14th and he said he needed help. I went to his room and on his bed was the Magna Doodle and in the upper left corner he had written 2012. He told me to make a 4 in the lower right and that was all because he could make a 1. After he fell asleep I peaked back in, and now on the top left corner was 201214.

Such a sweet little man.

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