As the country begins to open and we here in Milwaukee are faced with the confusion of our state’s Stay-at-Home order being lifted but Milwaukee’s remaining in place, I cannot help but look back as I look forward.
One of my favorite things about being the Pfister’s Narrator-in-Residence this year was the drive to the Pfister from my home in Shorewood, just on the
edge of the city. Every morning I would drive along the shores of Lake Michigan until just before reaching the Pfister located only a few blocks away.
The morning sun would often be nestled perfectly up high but sometimes it would just be rising to meet the sky. I remember this day clearly. It was
mid-February. Blustery and cold. Not just cold, but minus 3 degrees. It was brutal outside.
But the sun. I remember the sun. Just over the horizon. It was too beautiful to just drive by. Too beautiful not to stop. It was brilliant. A golden yellow glow of magic and light. Of promise and hope. Of the impossible and possible.
It was hard to pull myself away. To leave her light. But I had lost the feeling in my fingers and was too cold to stay. And so, I got back in my car and
followed her along the way.