Lea and I spend our days lounging in the tent and hammock, walking the beach, kayaking the supremely calm Lake Superior, and climbing dunes. We are both introverts to an extent, and her companionship is often in silence, but also sometimes filled with belly laughs so strong tears stream down our cheeks and we hold our sides until it passes. She is so much fun, and so like Younger Me in many ways.
Hosting exchange students has been an incredible experience, far more expansive and long-term than I had ever imagined way back from the decision to host the “first”, Marisa, who came to us in 2013. We’ve hosted four students during my daughter’s high school career, and each of them are very special to me, my borrowed daughters as I refer to them. Three of them call me Mom or American Mom or Mom-in-America, and three of them have come back to visit more than once, bringing their “real” moms and families along too. Two years ago I went to Europe and visited each of my overseas daughters in their home towns, for short but incredibly lovely visits. Hosting is a wonderful experience to open minds about how we may judge others or unconsciously regard ourselves, not only for the host family, but for the exchange student, and the greater community in which the exchange student circulates. It is a great opportunity for discovery in how we perceive ourselves in regards to others and how we may be perceived.
One particularly rainy afternoon, Lea and I wend our way along H58, a curvy, slow, just recently paved path that connects Munising to Grand Marais through forests, across rivers, along dunes and Lake Superior, and past numerous inland lakes. Just as we arrive at the road into Miners Castle, the rain becomes a torrent and a snake of headlights heading away from the shore slowly passes us as we creep forward in what is quickly a small river rushing along our side of the roadway. I consider stopping or turning, but at this point, it doesn’t matter. We get to the parking lot of the Visitors Center and even with the wipers on high, we barely make out a small handful of cars. We sit to wait it out, as the trees above us sway dramatically, making my heart race a bit and wonder if perhaps there is a safer location (one where a limb won’t crash through the windshield). Eventually the winds subside enough for me to wriggle into my raincoat and trot to the overlook. I want a view of Lake Superior in a rainstorm, and despite the fog, I’m not disappointed.
The rain subsides, as we continue on, stopping periodically to skip stones, or hike a trail, or climb dunes for majestic views. It’s nearly 8pm when we arrive in Grand Marais, and though we are both hungry, the local brewery is packed – over an hour wait – and feels too overwhelming to us after our solitary just-the-two-of-us day, so we make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on sourdough, and walk down to the little bay for a sunset and another belly laugh, before heading back in the quiet darkness to our camp.
