Flooding

I live in the land of 10,000 lakes, and a number of rivers. And today I was able to do something I've never actually done before: I went to Fargo and sandbagged.

And it made me happy (some would say grateful). Happy that I am physically fit enough to help. Happy that my home has never been threatened by floodwaters. Happy to see so many people helping. To see the people who weren't able to help for whatever reason supporting the efforts with sandwiches and bottled water. Happy that I got a paid day off to help. And happy to be home and warm (and I'm hoping not too sore tomorrow).

Happy.





PS: For more reading fun, check this out. Food for thought, anyway.

Home

I spent grades 7-12 in a small town (500) in North Dakota. Before that I lived in southern Minnesota, except for some short stints in my toddler years that I barely remember and don't count. I don't consider southern Minnesota home, since I was pretty young and was too young to really be formed at the time.

I've now spent more time living away from North Dakota than I spent living in North Dakota. And, although a lot of good things happened during my formative years there, I knew even at the time I wasn't cut out for small-town life in North Dakota.

Yet when someone asks me where I'm from, I usually answer North Dakota. And I know I'm not that far from the ND border, but I don't actually live there. And probably won't again.

So does that mean home is Alexandria, where I've lived for five years? Where is home? Does it matter? I'm not homeless, and rooted more in people and experiences than an actual place. And that works for me. So home is either North Dakota or Alexandria.