Taking off to live and work in Australia felt like an adventure, not a risk, to Mary Kraemer. After graduating from college, she'd worked in IT for four years, paid off her school loan and hatched a dream to live internationally.
"I wanted a big change, to experience a different culture," said Kraemer, 27, who arrived in Brisbane last May on a one-year work visa.
Now Kraemer is back in the St. Louis Park house where she grew up.
In mid-March, she abruptly cut her stay short, bought a one-way ticket and raced home as the global pandemic tightened its grip.
"It was a hard call, but I was afraid they would close the airport and I could get stuck," she said. "In a worst-case situation, I figured it would be easier to be with my family."
An army of disoriented young Minnesotans are stunned to find themselves once again staying with their parents, bunking in their childhood bedrooms or unpacked in the basement.
These reluctant prodigals were launched: They were finding their footing and building careers in an expanding employment market that boasted more positions than candidates.
But almost overnight, the economy went from red hot to ice cold. Their jobs evaporated and their prospects dimmed and, as Robert Frost wrote, they looked to home — "the place where when you go there, they have to take you in."