This morning as I walked through Dinkytown, where we’re staying at the fabulous Wales House bed and breakfast, I realized every time I visit these cities, something happens. The first time in Minneapolis was for a conference, which I had to leave early because my long-suffering grandmother finally died, propelling me to re-unite with a cousin and aunt I hadn’t seen for 35 years because of my parents’ crazy divorce in 1973. It was healing for all of us.
The next time I came to Minneapolis to attend a conference, I ended up blowing off most of the sessions and wandering the city, traveling the light rail without any sense of where I was going, and recommitting myself to get my writing published despite years of intense rejections. I ended that trip leaning into the small opening of 18th floor hotel window with a Cuban fiction writer and Domician poet, all of us dropping tiny pieces of paper out the window with our writerly wishes written on them.
Last fall, one of my granted writerly wishes — to have my memoir published — led us to St. Paul for both the Midwestern Booksellers Convention and for Natalie to check out the McNally Smith College of Music. Signing books for a long line of people (even if my publisher was giving out the books for free) was a delight, and we were all smitten with the college.
Now I’m back to move Natalie into that college today, and last night, I received word that after 10 years of trying to find a literary agent, a very good one is going to represent my next book.
While I continue to live my writer dream, Natalie is here to embark upon her singer dream, in the twin cities where earnest wishes, hard work, surrender to the forces of chance and karma, and catalysts for true healing seem to always find me. I wish for her to find her own dream large and generous, unfolding for her as mine unfolds for me all life long.
Photos: even the houses here are twins!