A Dear Minnesota Letter

Dear Minnesota,

We've been together 13 years now, and there have been some good times. But after much soul-searching, I've been forced to admit that it's just not working out. I'm afraid I'm going to have to end it.

I'd like to say "It's not you, it's me," but truthfully... it's mostly you.

I started with the best intentions. We were going to share so much, I was sure I'd love every marvelous inch of you, and I was going to spend the rest of my life with you. But it turned out that you weren't at all what I thought you would be. As hard as I've tried to make it work, I deserve to be happy. And it's unrealistic to expect you to change.

You have a lot of great qualities, truly. You have scenic rivers and zillions of square miles of unspoiled wilderness. You have wolves and bears and moose and eagles. I've actually only seen the eagles, but that's not totally your fault. I haven't been able to invest the time required to fully experience all you have to offer. Tom and I thought, when we moved here in 1996, that we'd spend several weeks and numerous long weekends every year exploring the natural wonders and plentiful wildlife. But we found ourselves working (and working and working...) and unable to find the time.

Your public relations campaign is also a bit misleading. People who haven't lived here think you're cold and snowy, sure... but that's only partly right. There's really not all that much snow. Not that I'm a huge snow fan, but I do enjoy my seasons. But I'd rather have more snow if you could give up the "not rising above freezing from November to March" thing. And it's not just "below freezing." Lots of that time is "below zero." And really, I don't see why we even measure temperatures below zero. Let's just call it what it is. "Too freakin' cold to go outside without a parka worthy of an Everest expedition." For, like, half the year.

I can't do it anymore.

You have made many significant contributions to my life, and I don't want to fail to recognize that. Since getting to know you, I discovered golden retriever rescue and Great Pyrenees rescue. If not for you, I'd never have had Sprocket, Sassafras, Gulliver, Seko, Ruxpin, Darwin, Brody, or Ozark. I never would have met T, Jess, Sam, Steph, and many other wonderful people.

Tom and I never would have had the incredible vacations up north of Ely on Big Lake, with Ripley and Sprocket running and swimming and rolling in the pine needles. We never would have had those precious times on the island in Gunn Lake with our Sprocket in the last year of his life. Sprocket sure loved it up there.

And how I love the North Shore of Lake Superior! Tom and I had the perfect 25th anniversary last year at the cabin at the Grand Superior Lodge, with our re-commitment ceremony by a shaman, and dancing by the campfire on the rocky beach.

Ryan would never have met Rachel, either, and we're all extremely happy that he did. He also might not have followed the course of study he did, and have the excellent job that he's found. They wouldn't have Odin and their Darwin, either, and they're such great dog-parents, and I'm so glad these two little puppers have them.

But I can't do this any more. I can't have numb feet from October to May. I can't look at my beautiful pool hidden under a black tarp for 3/4 of the year. I can't think of all the scenic natural wonders that are a short drive away, knowing I can't get away from my day-to-day life enough to enjoy them.

So I have to leave you. It's going to take a while for me to get all my shit together and get out. There's some financial stuff we have to take care of, and then we'll have to sell the house, but I wanted to let you know so you can get used to the idea. I know you'll be fine without me, eventually. I believe Ohio will make me happier in the long run. I'll still have seasons, but winter won't be eight months long. I'll have sassafras trees again, and lightning bugs. I could have a peach tree if I wanted, and I can grow roses that will actually survive from one summer to the next. I'll have to pull out the Zero Xposure parka a few times a year, instead of living in it from December to March.

I'll be able to live in the little slice of paradise that I find, rather than knowing it's here, but just out of my reach. I can't live waiting for "vacation time," I need to surround myself with what makes me happy every day. I'm getting too old to keep talking about "someday." I need to make someday now, every day, for as long as I can.

I hope you understand, and can move on. You will always, always have a very special place in my heart. I hope we can be friends, because I might want to visit from time to time, but my future lies elsewhere.

Fondly,
Lori