First Day

It's 95 degrees and we have 4 hours to kill before checking in to the apartment where we will be staying for the month of July. We're here because my 16-year-old daughter is a figure skater, and her coach is here, and there's no ice this time of year in our hometime in Pennsylvania. My daughter is no stranger to Minnesota, however, as she's been going to a private boarding school (is there another kind?) south of here for the last six months--the curriculum includes figure skating. So here we are, on a mother-daughter adventure. She with her figure skating, me with my academic work (that makes such a month possible).

Our first day included some first-day-in-a-new-town activities which revolved around getting our bearings and getting food. We did our Trader Joe's stop, gleefully announcing to each other that we only need to get one bag of frozen mango (or trail mix, or jar of peanut butter) because we live just down the street, though in actuality it's really about four miles away. We picked up a temporary membership at the Midtown YWCA (from which we actually do live just down the street) and scouted out the local public library, walked around (or nearly) one of the 10,000 lakes, as well as scoped out the neighborhood Whole Foods. We also found our way to the Mighty Mississipi, where there is an amazing bike trail. Perhaps tomorrow we will ride our bikes there. For now, my daughter is resting after two or three trips (make that four) to the bathroom where she has been throwing up the vegan, whole food dinner I lovingly prepared for us. It's been such a long time since she's thrown up (like me, she resists throwing up if she can at all help it), I have forgotten how much can come out of a small stomach. And how far it can go up a wall or across the floor. I'm so grateful, though, that I could be here to hold her head when she threw up, and then clean up after her.  These past many months since my son went to college and my daughter went to boarding school have helped me appreciate even more these rare moments.