On time travel, lesbian dreams, and bus stops
Yesterday, in honor of our nation’s Independence I decided to travel back in time. I don’t go back to Blaine, the suburb I grew up in, very often. Something about the area doesn’t feel right and it makes me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. Last night as Sister #4 and I were driving home along 169, I let out a huge sigh of relief as we crossed south of 394.
“Oh,” I said. “I feel much better.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Everything north of 394 feels like a different country,” I said. “It’s just weird, because I feel anxious when I’m up there. It’s like you have to run to get out or you’ll get stuck and never leave.”
“You’re just generalizing based on our weird family,” she said, referring to the gaggle of cousins and cousins’ kids who have never left Anoka country.
“Yes, to some degree. But then look at Jenni and Mark and Jeff. They’ve never even left their parents’ houses. It’s scary.”
We had spent the day at Jodi Hanson’s mom’s house eating brats and reminiscing about the old days. About how Jodi got grounded for scratching ‘I Love Tony Cobb’ into the bumper of her dad’s truck, or about how Amber Thom was nice to me at the bus stop. I relayed the story to my friends and family:
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