Illustration by Doug Davis
Editor: This is the fifth in an eight-part series of “My Town” personal essays by New Mobility readers and freelancers.
Home is where Serena Rose, my cat, lives. Home is where the ramp reaches the deck at the back door and my scooter just barely makes it through the tiny back entry and turns at a right angle to squeeze through the kitchen door. Home is Grand Forks, N.D., where I have lived more than 30 years. Where you know you’re tough because you survived the winter and the 1997 flood that drove all of us and the citizens of our twin city, East Grand Forks, Minn., out of our homes. Where you know it’s ‘really’ cold because your car seat doesn’t give under you when you get in. It’s where no mountains impede my view of the sky.
“Why the hell don’t you go somewhere else,” I am asked by those whose homes are in more temperate climates, more populated regions — a reasonable question. We often ask it ourselves. I did go somewhere else. I went to college in Columbia, Mo. I lived in Madison, Wisc. I have visited Cal