When I told my mom yesterday that Joe and I were in Marquette, Michigan for the second week in a row, her response was, "You don't live there anymore, you know."
But we had a long weekend. And the leaves are changing. And I needed some whitefish.
And I wanted to repeat last Saturday when I woke up, bought a cranberry walnut muffin and a coffee from Babycakes, walked to the farmer's market downtown, sat next to a fountain, listened to Mike Wait play his guitar and sing to all the browsers and buyers of carrot bunches, bread loaves, honey jars, soap bars, bird houses, and everything else being made in the upper peninsula.
I wanted to watch the clouds sneak in over Lake Superior as people drank cider, pet strangers' dogs, greeted old friends, found the perfect tomatillo.
It's raining again this weekend, but that's good because I've got plenty of work to do and the Peter White Library has the perfect view of a misty Lake Superior and a damp Marquette.
I don't live here anymore. Tomorrow we'll go home to Minnesota, back to our undecorated and almost unfurnished apartment. But in a few weeks the leaves there will be just as bright, and I'll figure the rest out soon. I'll make some time to nest, to explore, to find that view that keeps me looking up from the page every once in a while.