Home?

As I flew into Minneapolis this morning at 8:40 (my flight having been delayed eight and a half hours--much of which I was thankfully able to spend at my parents' house between trips to the airport), the ground stretched out flat and white and the trees cast half-mile shadows over the snow. I recognized a familiarly-shaped chain of lakes, and near it the cluster of tall downtown buildings, and realized that out my window was the view I'd seen so often on Google Maps that even I, the most directionally-challenged person I know, could point out my own neighborhood. I saw the airfield, the Mississippi, the University, and as we swung far to the east to make our final descent, the twin downtowns of Minneapolis and Saint Paul.

Whether it's because I live closer to both the airport and major landmarks than I ever have before, because the area is impressively flat, because things stood out especially clearly against the pale snowy ground, or because of some other aligning of the stars, it was pretty exciting to recognize the city as mine--as conflicted as I felt about being back.