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We have an apple tree in our front yard in the Twin Cities, and while sitting in the grass I asked my son what animal he thought chewed on the apples that had fallen from the tree. “Monkeys!” he shouted confidently.
I moved back to Minnesota this summer after 22 years away. I grew up in southeastern Minnesota, near Rochester, and close to my grandparents’ farm.
For the last four years my family has lived in Tanzania, where a monkey once stole an apple out of my young son’s hand. So he knows a thing or two about monkeys eating apples.
We weren’t planning to move back to Minnesota this year. We moved because my husband worked in the federal government in an agency that was closed. No matter the reason, a big move is challenging. It has been difficult to relearn everything I once knew. To have a new workplace, a new routine, a new grocery store, new foods at the store, new doctors, a new home, a new school and so on. It is frustrating when everything is different.
But one thing that I hoped would be the same, especially here, is the kindness of strangers. And so far, my hopes have come true. Not to boast, but we all know that we Minnesotans have a reputation for being especially nice.
When my family first learned we would be moving I searched frantically for help getting my kids registered for school in the Twin Cities. My sister reached out to my brother-in-law’s cousin, who reached out to her spouse’s cousin, who talked to his wife, and I met Emily, who offered to help me out. At the same time, someone I worked with in a college job 20 years ago offered us a place to stay. And a friend of a friend of my college roommate knew someone in the area, who offered help registering for a Twin Cities school from Tanzania. Many, many strangers offered help once I asked.
