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…

I left the dishes in the sink, the toys covering the living room floor and my latest sewing project spread across the dining room table. The house was a mess, but the mess would be there when we returned. The lure of sunshine on an autumn day in Michigan was too tempting to ignore. As soon as our early dinner was finished, we rushed to one of our favorite hikes at Pyramid Point, hoping to catch the sunset. June was crabby, but we continued anyway. I had forgotten my coat, but we continued anyway. Half way up the trail we realized we had completely missed the sunset, but we continued…

The wind had caused chaos for nearly one week, trapping us indoors for longer than we would have liked. It is never easy confining yourself and a busy preschooler in the house. By Friday, we were eager for adventure despite a lowgrade fever and yet another impending thunderstorm. We rushed through dinner, bundled into our warmest gear and drove to Van’s Beach in Leland. With June pressed against me, we wondered over the great lake’s power. Her breath, hot on my face, as she yelled, “We are adventures!” with all the gusto she could manage. The wind carried her message away with the rest of the wave’s leftovers, a hearty…