All field trips were welcomed. Turning in the signed release form from my mother was always a bit exciting. Seeing the curve of her “I”, still ignites a feeling that something good is just a bus ride away.
That giant yellow box on wheels took us stomping the bog up north. Crawling through Crystal Cave. Orienteering is some forgotten forest. To the zoo. Knute Nelson Home. The baseball stadium. And then one day, without my knowledge or permission, straight to the door of my first love, The Walker Art Museum. I bought two pencils from the gift shop and saved them like pressed corsages from a high school dance.
I suppose you never forget your first love. It changes you. Not only the love you receive, but finding out the love you are able to give. This infinite supply that says you will always have a reason to board that bus. To try new things. To believe in them. To see the beauty all around you. Ever. Still.
That’s what The Walker in Minneapolis did for me. Does for me still. Even a country away. I pulled out my most recent purchase from last year’s visit. I read the back of the shirt. Minneapolis, MN — the World in New Ways. I couldn’t have imagined what that would mean. And I couldn’t love Minneapolis more than I do now.
My mother was always right. Something good is coming.
