Winter is in full swing here in Northern Michigan: white trees heavy with snow, slippery roads with longer travel times, and the most honest telltale sign of winter there is, pent up, wild children having tantrums in the mall. I had forgotten the feeling of “the lockdown” when the roads are too bad to leave your house. It becomes hard not to feel like a prisoner to these snow filled days. But I am grateful for the snow this year. As a family, we are trying hard to embrace this season. Sean keeps running outside despite the piling snow on the paths. June loves ice skating and trying her cross-country…

I had forgotten how small you feel beside the city buildings, a crumb of bread along the kitchen floor waiting to be seen. I always rather liked the city; the pace, the sounds, the anonymity of it all. It has been some six months living back in my hometown and I still cannot come to terms with its reality. At some point in my late twenties, my sense of home shifted from where I was born to where I identified. I liked to use the word, “originally”. “Originally, I was born in Northern Michigan,” I might say, “but now I live in Grand Rapids.” What made me who I was…