Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I’m going to Fargo, North Dakota, today.  It’s my annual pilgrimage to see my older son Kevin and immerse in his life.  I also go to upstate New York to see my younger son Keith and immerse in his.  And from time to time they come here, but it’s a journey no matter what. Nothing is easy in our family.

I love Fargo.  It’s the unheralded entrance to the Northern Plains.  It’s rustic.  It’s got wonderful restaurants for a town its size.  There are two universities and one college. There’s culture. There is also the Red River, windy and unmanageable, threatening overflow regardless of the season.  Keeping residents on their toes.

There were times when I’ve visited Kevin when the days were short and the snow was tall.  The skies were grey and unrelenting too. But in the past couple years, I’ve leaned toward summer visits.  He’s more relaxed since he’s on vacation from his academic schedule and there are no papers to grade. The weather is more enticing, so it just works better.

I can’t wait to get there.