Day 9 began quietly at Jesse’s house near Brainerd. I took Tad outside a little before seven and saw Jesse getting ready to take his daughter Vivian, an eighth grader, to school.
Before leaving, Jesse told us that our cousin Cece would be stopping by for coffee around 7:30.
That changed everything.
I hadn’t seen Cece since 2018, and we were thrilled at the chance to catch up with her. Cece and I were born the same year, and she is one of the eight Huff kids, the children of my Aunt Beth, my mother’s oldest sister.
The Huffs were an important part of my childhood. My mother and Aunt Beth were particularly close, and during those chaotic early years of my life, when we still lived in Minnesota, we spent a lot of time together. Those cousins were part of my world.
And somehow, regardless of how many years pass, whenever we are together again, it feels as though we simply pick up where we left off.
Cece arrived, big hugs were exchanged, coffee was poured, and the stories began.
Cece has lived an extraordinary life. A retired nurse who worked with U.S. consulates around the world, she has traveled extensively and always has adventures to share. About half an hour later, her older brother Chuck joined us, and before long our plans for the next few days had completely changed.
Chuck invited us to stay at his cabin on West Twin Lake near Pequot Lakes, about 20 minutes away. Even better, we learned that two more Huff cousins, Al and his wife Linda, were already staying there.
We had planned to head toward Pine City and my sister Lynn’s house, but this was an opportunity we couldn’t pass up. I called Lynn and told her we would arrive Monday instead.
Sometimes the best part of traveling is allowing the road to rewrite your itinerary.
Before heading to West Twin Lake, Cece joined Janice, Tad and me for a long walk at a nearby arboretum. Then we had one small piece of unfinished business.
The previous evening we discovered that Janice’s credit card was missing. I realized I must have dropped it while filling the motorhome with gas at Costco.
Fortunately, someone had found it and turned it in. It was safely locked away waiting for us. Whew!
Card recovered, crisis averted, we climbed back into Cece’s car, returned to the arboretum where we had left the motorhome, and pointed our rolling cabin toward West Twin Lake.
When we arrived, Al and Linda greeted us warmly. I hadn’t seen them for a couple of years, and once again there were hugs, laughter and stories.
The Huff family has held reunions over the years that Janice and I have been fortunate to attend, and they are always wonderful gatherings, lots of laughter, fascinating conversations and generations of family history woven together.
By lunchtime we headed into Pequot Lakes.
What a delightful little Minnesota lake town.
Its most recognizable landmark is its water tower, painted like a giant red-and-white fishing bobber. That theme carries through town, with red-and-white planters, trash cans and other touches that give Pequot Lakes its own playful personality.
We stopped at Lucky’s for lunch, and when in Minnesota…
Walleye!
I ordered walleye fish tacos, which were delicious, accompanied by local beer and, naturally, more conversation.
Then it was back to Chuck’s cabin, where the rest of the day unfolded at exactly the pace a day at a Minnesota lake should.
We sat outside beneath the deck overlooking West Twin Lake. We talked. We laughed. We told stories we had heard before and stories some of us had forgotten. We ate some of the pico de gallo we had made a couple of nights earlier, shared wonderful wine and watched the afternoon slowly become evening.
Tad, meanwhile, was delighted with his newest swimming hole and spent time exploring and splashing in the lake.
As I sat there looking at my cousins, something struck me deeply.
I could see my family in their faces.
My mother.
My grandparents.
My aunts and uncles.
There are expressions, eyes, smiles and little mannerisms that somehow survive generations. Because I have lived so far from my Minnesota family for so many years and sometimes go several years without seeing them, those similarities seem especially powerful when we are reunited.
It is almost like traveling backward through time.
The stories take me there, certainly. But so do our faces.
Our shared ancestry is written into us.
And as I looked around that gathering, something else filled me with gratitude.
Janice fits into my family as naturally as if she had been there with us from the beginning.
That has always amazed me and meant so much to me. These cousins share memories with me that stretch all the way back to childhood, people and places, family stories, laughter and experiences from long before Janice and I knew one another. Yet when we are all together, there is no separation between “my family” and Janice. She is simply part of us.
She laughs with them, listens to the old stories, joins the conversations and adds her own warmth and perspective. My cousins embrace her just as naturally. There is an ease to it that can't be manufactured or forced.
I am proud of my family, and I am proud of Janice, my wife and my best friend.
Watching the people I love fit together so organically is something I never take for granted.
Maybe we really are all on the same wavelength somehow.
Whatever it is, sitting there beside West Twin Lake, surrounded by cousins and memories with Janice beside me, I felt extraordinarily fortunate.
I wasn't simply remembering my family. In little flashes and familiar expressions, I could almost see those who came before us again.
And beside me was the person with whom I am creating the next chapters of those memories.
As evening settled over the lake, the sky gave us another show.
We could see a thunderstorm slowly approaching from the west. For nearly an hour we watched flashes of lightning illuminate the clouds, followed by long, rolling rumbles of thunder moving across the Minnesota landscape.
It wasn't a violent storm. There were no frightening bolts striking around us. Instead, the clouds themselves seemed to glow from within.
Al built a fire.
Cece, tired after several busy days surrounding her high school reunion, headed inside for some well-earned sleep. Al, Linda, Janice and I stayed outside.
In front of us, the fire flickered beside beautiful West Twin Lake.
Off to our right, the thunderstorm slowly moved closer, lightning illuminating the clouds as rolling thunder crossed the evening sky.
For a while, nobody needed to be anywhere else.
Eventually we felt the first enormous raindrops.
Then a few more.
Time to retreat.
We went inside just as the sky opened and the rain began pouring down. And there, sheltered from the storm, we did what we had been doing all day.
We kept talking.
More stories. More memories. More laughter.
Eventually the rain stopped as quickly as it had arrived. Janice and I said goodnight and headed back to the motorhome to join Tad, waiting for us patiently in our rolling home.
We crawled into bed blissfully relaxed and fell asleep almost immediately.
We hadn't traveled very far on Day 9.
But somehow, I had traveled decades.
Back to childhood.
Back to Minnesota.
Back to my mother and Aunt Beth.
Back to grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins whose lives are intertwined with mine.
And through it all was Janice, not as someone visiting my past, but as someone who has become completely woven into my family and the life we share.
Tomorrow we will wake beside West Twin Lake and spend another day with family. We'll remain here through Sunday before heading toward Pine City on Monday, where another wonderful chapter awaits with my sister Lynn, my son Nick, my daughter Ashley, and their families.
But tonight, tucked into our rolling cabin beside West Twin Lake, I am simply grateful.
Grateful for cousins.
Grateful for memories.
Grateful for Janice.
Grateful for the faces that remind us where we came from.
And grateful that sometimes, when you least expect it, the road doesn't just take you somewhere new.
It takes you home.
