midwest bound

last night
after days without
horizontal sleep,
countless delays,
hours of tarmac waiting,
enough dashing through

airports
to quench any marathon runner...


i had finally made it.
to the very 
last leg of my 
return 
home journey.


breathless and sweat-full
my terminal sprinting
ended as i deflated
in front of the final
gate.
chicago to minneapolis.


the airline worker
looked over her glasses at me,
pitifully.


"you missed it" she said.


"but isn't that the plane?"
i ask.

{some ultimatums
must be questioned.}

"and besides, it's 7:58 and the
plane doesn't take off for
another 6 minutes."


the airline worker's eyes
locked with mine.


{the starring over the glasses
was beginning
to get old.}


she agreed to check
if the gate was open.


it was.


i'd made it.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
traveling.

such a gift.
the chance to leave what is
here.
and go.
just go.
to see and explore and wonder
and test and search and marvel.


there is nothing quite like it.
especially
when you know
precisely
what home is like.
what you've missed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


sneaking onto the aircraft
not a moment too late,
i approached cautiously.


the plane was
of course
full of eager travelers,
who had been on time.
who were waiting.
ready to get on with their journeys.



the situation had potential to be
intimidating.



the stares.
the glares.
because after all.
being THE ONE.
THE ONE
the late one.
the holding-up-the-plane one.
the your-tardiness-is-foiling-my-connection one.
never a good
position.


but.
intimidating and scornful
looks did not greet me.
only smiles,
nods of approval,
and congratulatory
last minute plane-catching
compliments
were doled my way
as i,
still short of breath,
found my way down the aisle.


and when seat 26A was
doubled booked
and i had no where to sit,
3 rows in all directions
of concerned travelers 
found another seat for me.
all before
a flight attendent even 
knew there was an issue.


the midwest
truly welcomed me home.


and while
even though it felt
like my time traveling was
too short
and it was hard to leave.
to say goodbye.


it's good to be back.


as for last night.
dear United 959 plane-mates,
thanks for the 
warm welcome.
home.




- n.


ps 
stay tuned for 
tales of the past weeks.
of meeting
christmas-ing
traveling
new years-ing
tappas-ing
and sunning.
with sister & parents
and a bunch of Oxford MBAs.

a donut discovery

this week i was

introduced to a new friend.

it was instant attraction.

some might call it:

love at first look.

upon the first moments 

of being together

it felt like we had known

each other all along.

like we'd never

been apart.

this friend was meant for me.

and i was, obviously meant

for this friend.

this is the friend

i had never known

i had always been waiting for.

and that is why our meeting is

serendipitously perfect.

a true fairytale

if you've ever heard one.

we met.

E 25th Street & 30th Ave South.

at a neighborhood favorite

called the Donut Cooperative. 

it took me a minute to know.

to know that is was

indeed this friend.

this friend that was meant

to be.

but after she was

on the plate.

all doubts were far far away.

like probably as

far as St. Paul.

that's how far.

her name?

curry coconut donut.

depends on who you are,

but you might have to

trust me on this one.

she was perfect in 

every way.

the other person i was

there with

...she made other friends.

but none as special

as my new friend.

 the whole place was

full of vibrant color &

clean-straight lines.

there is one cozy corner

to saddle up to 

if your desire is to

stay the morning away.

the staff is quirky & kind

and just crazy about

their creations.

the owner Dawn was there

that morning.

baking away.

and she seemed genuinely

pleased to know

her donut brilliance

brought me 

and my new friend together.

and i will probably

never be the same again. 

so dear curry coconut donut.

until we meet again.

at the,

yours truly.

- n. 

changes like: bangs.

things change.
and sometimes there is nothing 
around you reflecting
that change you feel.


what can be done?
sometimes nothing.
but sometimes
something must be done.


something drastic.


to remind you everyday
of the change you
feel all around.
and of the change you
feel within yourself. 


this past week.
i did that something drastic.


uh-oh.


i got bangs.


i didn't just get bangs 
anywhere.
i went to the cutest, most
shabby-est of chic-ish interior
shabby-chic has ever seen before.


i tell no lies.
this is not something to
joke about.
that's how perfectly
fabulous it was.


where was i
you ask?

why! this lovely place,

yes you did just read
correctly.
salon & creative space.
um-hello?


if only i wasn't so busy
eye-goggling mirrors,
wallpaper & chaise lounges
pillows & birdcages
lamps & wall art...


if only i wasn't so absorbed
in the act of
you know, getting bangs...


i would have snapped some
photos to share.
because this place.
this salon & creative space
must be known.


but alas
the only visual i can share
is what can be found on 
their website.

no matter.
you'll just have to visit
yourself i guess.


tucked between the hour car rental
& the bird cafe
BANGbang is nestled cozily
into a weathered brick exterior.
right in the Kingfield
neighborhood.


as my stylist
stood snipping away
layer upon layer of locks,


she remarked,
"why didn't you come after 3pm? 
then you could have sipped on a 
glass of wine."


oh why oh why
didn't i?!


instead i enjoyed my
orange juice.
next time, i promised
my palate. 


i had to ask her.
as she snipped snipped away.
because what she was doing
was pretty typical.
yet how she approached it
...something was
different.


"each head of hair
is my canvas," she remarked.
"to create, style and transform.
that's the fun part.
the creating.
helping to create
the change for people.
that's why i do this."


and that,
is precisely what she did.
style & trim.
here, here & then suddenly
... there.
an artist in her
own right.


her work
reflected something deep
inside that
was begging to be
expressed.


BANGbang assisted me
in that expression.


"there!" she said,
twisting me around to see
her final touches.
"i'm done here."


good, i thought.
now my work begins.
to settle into
the change inside
as well as the change
that is now
staring right back at
me.


"oh yeah, and pop in
anytime
for a bang trim.
they're free!"


i can't exactly remember.
but i think
i might have hugged
her.


have you been to BANGbang?
do tell. do tell.


- n.

one. then two. then twenty.

one.
then two.
then five.
then twenty.
and then one hundred thousand.
all
falling
together.


and hours later.
our world is....


sweaters.
tugged in tighter.
warm beverages 
cupped between thankful
hands.
cozy-ers cozy in to their
someone closer.


and the candles lite hold 
the color
of our glowing, flickering existence.


and hours later.
our world is....


have i ever seen this 
brillance of new 
before?
every time i ask myself.


my collection of memories seem
to encourage me that...
yes.
in fact i know this.


but the shimmer. 
gentle gracing.
resting.
delighting.
being.


all. it all is new.
every time.
new again.


and hours later.
our world is 
completely changed....

covered.
.....in snow.




it's the best, right?






- n.

remember what we've known.

with autumn

and halloween in

the air.

jack-o-lanterns

and leaf piles

on the corners.

candy and more

candy lining 

the convenient store aisles.

i thought it might

be time

to do something

i've been meaning to do

for years now.

take a walk

through Lakewood Cemetery.

this Minneapolis cemetery 

was established in 1871 

just 13 years after

Minnesota received 'statehood'.

old right?

right.

on first noticings,

the cemetery just keeps

going, going

and going.

the trees reach high

and the grounds are 

impeccably kept.

the stillness is encompassing

and inviting.

i was taught

when i was just a

little girl

to love cemeteries.

for the stillness

for the history

for the honoring of those

who have come before.

the names.

they are written,

but they are unknown to me.

does someone still remember?

and for the stories.

is this Mother's story

still etched in

a child or grandchild's memory?

am i living how i am

in part because of

Mother Ida?

dear Mother and Father Wong,

have you made my

life a little easier?

dear uncle joe.

did you let your 

nieces and nephews sit on

your lap?

did you tell them stories

of the world from the 1790s.

did you remark,

"my how the world is changing!"

just when i think the

world,

back then,

is completely unknown to me.

it is then i find

the statue of

the mother.

cuddling her joys,

just like so many

mothers do.

and i wonder,

at how somethings 

time 

can never & will never 

change.

cemeteries invite me 

to take a moment.

and to just gaze at the

sky.

 

and let the blueness

stun me.

in my wanderings

i find this little girl.

whose life seems to

have ended 

too soon.

i wonder what

dreams filled her head

and imagination.

 

do you remember?

can you remember?

who you wanted to be,

when you were just that small?

this woman.

takes

my breath away.

i even hesitate to

take any bit of her

into my camera lens.

i walk round and round her.

stand next to her.

even her stoneness possess 

a presence

that overwhelms me.

i get lost

amidst the 

trees

names

histories 

stories

and statues.

but i don't mind.

because i am just remembering

things i never knew.

or perhaps i do know.

perhaps we all know and 

perhaps we always have.

perhaps our stories our

interwoven

more than we could ever imagine.

we are because they were.

i am because you are.

connectedness.

those before us,

those around us,

and those to come after us.

maybe we have held all those

pieces since our

first Creation.

maybe. just maybe.

happy autumn.

may we remember

what we have always known.

- n.