Free to Be You and Me

Bill and I went to Austin, Texas for the weekend. We went to celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary, which was March 14.

It seems we used to do this more often. The first trip we took after Calvin stopped nursing was memorable. For over a year we had not had much of a moment to ourselves. Was the trip so romantic?  I don't remember the romance, I only remember sleeping through the night and way into the next day with room darkening shades and I also recall that we spent about four train-of-thought hours wondering around Barnes and Noble--comatose in our freedom. No one had to stand next to the Thomas Track while the other perused the magazine rack. Another early highlight was sitting in a restaurant and not scarfing down food before the kid woke up hungry.

I really don't miss early childhood days.

This trip, we started our rounds at the Central Market. This is a grocery store to end all. Trader Joe's and Whole Foods can just take a number and get in line. Byerly's--I don't know what to say? You are lovely and overpriced and carpeted but something is still missing. I'm not being sacrilegious when I say that walking in the door to Central Market, after winter in Minnesota was a religious experience. Every herb growing in six inch pots, no, not growing--thriving--cascading out of their glorious little plots of black dirt. Hundreds of them in racks. If I was a cat I would have rolled in it. Then, the produce. It was glowing. Twenty varieties of brussel sprouts. I've never made them, but there they were in pyramids and I was fantasizing about sautéing them in butter. Maybe I'll become a brussel sprout expect and be able to discern all these different varieties. The energy level in that football field of organic glory was amazing. It's no wonder there are so many vegetarians in Austin. Look what they have? Then, you round the corner to the meat palace and you let those thoughts go. If I lived here I could just grill every night. Never did beef look like that in a case.

Then, the fresh squeezed o.j. sample. I don't know what they add or don't add or if it's legal--and I don't care. When you pour it in the glass it vibrates. You feel like God created the sun and then the sun went into the Earth and it grew an orange and now you are drinking the sun. Maybe you are drinking God. In any case, we got a half gallon.

Lastly, the thing about Central Market is that it's an HEB. Minnesota folks, that's like Cub. So all the normal stuff like milk and eggs is normal price. Alas. It does no good to keep thinking about it. I took a vow.

Getting away for a weekend with one's husband, especially when you are fond of him, is completely underrated. Going back to a place you spent your twenties is also underrated. Simply being there sheds the years. That's different than shedding cats. . .

It's not a glorification of the past. I was much too lonely then to notice the orange juice vibrating.  I didn't have anyone I was free to be myself with. I didn't have two growing up Minnesota kids to buy "Keep Austin Weird" t-shirts for.

It's just a reminder of how where we have been shapes who we are. And spending time alone together gets you back to remembering just who you and me are.

I wish it wasn't 43 degrees and raining today. I was wondering why we live here as I put on my wool sweater this morning. I guess this too is part of who we are. Spring will come. I'll spend too much on flowers. By mid May I'll sit and make my lists with my coffee on my screen porch. We will go to the lake and see the loons and breath the fresh crisp Minnesota morning air even in July. We will grill our own Kowalski's meats and try to grow some tomatoes before the deer eat them.

Years from now, if we ever move, we'll come back home and visit and dream about how we raised our kids here and their schools and church and my garden and the house we built and our restaurants and we will visit all the sanctuaries of Minnesota and they will be sacred too. We might feel a little tender, but mostly thankful--for where we are right now and all the places we have been.