There’s an art to shoveling horse manure efficiently, and I
no longer have it. I used to, but it’s
gone.
A person wouldn’t think that’s a big deal, but it’s turned
into a bit of a crisis for me because I’m feeling it’s very symbolic of the
fact that the life I used to have in Minnesota is now part of my past. This
isn’t my way of life anymore; it’s a place I visit and I am no more than one of
the thousands of tourists that descend on my old hometown every summer only to
stay a short while and then return back to some other place.
It’s been two years since I moved to California, and I’ve
made many trips back to Minnesota in that time, but up until now, each trip
back has felt like coming home after being away for an extended vacation. This
trip back to Minnesota has made me feel very homesick for Minnesota and the
life we used to have here. I miss the woods, the small town, horseback rides
with Mom, chatting with Dad about business, running into so many people I know
when I go into town, and the beautiful countryside that we used to call home. 
Staying at the farm where Mom and Dad now live - the house
that Fritz and I built, and where Fritz and I raised our son for the first nine
years of his life - has been strange this time. I look around the familiar rooms,
turn on the familiar light switches, and hear the familiar creaks and groans of
the logs, and it pulls on my heart strings a bit. This isn’t mine anymore, I’m
a guest here. This was a happy place for us, and there are so many wonderful
memories, and living on the farm was a good way of life. I loved walking out the
front door and into the woods, listening to the birds sing and the horses stomp,
hearing the leaves rustle in the wind, and it makes me homesick for what once
was.
But a person can’t go back and have the same thing over
again. It will never be the way it was, or at least not the way it’s
remembered. Case in point: I’m not even very useful in the barn anymore because
I can’t shovel shit the way I used to! Despite the homesickness, nostalgia, and loss of what was
that I am feeling on this visit back to Minnesota, I don’t have regrets. I know
me, and I know that I often look backwards on my life with rose-colored
glasses, thinking it’s too bad that I never realize how good the moment is when
I’m in it. And as much as I miss the peace and beauty of northern Minnesota and
the nearness to family, I’m happy where I am. I love my neighborhood, I love
the ocean, I love wine country, I love the friends we’ve made, and I love the life
we have there.
My only complaint about southern California is there are too
many people, but Minnesota has too many bugs...
At least I can squish the bugs without getting in trouble.
