I moved to Grand Forks, ND in November of 1992. At that time, the Lincoln drive area was a neighborhood along the Red River of the North not far from my home, and it was also the location of the neighborhood elementary school. The flood of 1997 knocked that all out, hundreds of families displaced, the school destroyed. It was never really replaced, as it was merged with another school in the adjacent neighborhood in the historic Near Southside District during the years of recovery to follow.

Lincoln Park sits there now, still full of the old growth trees, but when you’re standing just right, they all line up to where the streets used to be. Today, I’m cross country skiing along the smooth trails in this riverside location through the old neighborhood, enjoying the crisp air and the freshness of the new-fallen snow. I’m in no particular hurry, and it’s great to be out on a Monday afternoon on this Presidents Day.

The trails are cut and groomed by the parks department, and the path today is a little bit different, but that doesn’t really occur to me until I pass by the marker for where the school’s playground used to be. This is unexpectedly and suddenly emotionally overwhelming; when we first moved here, this is where I brought my kids to play, and where they each had their first days of kindergarten. Sunny days fill my mind, the kids yelling and laughing as they ride the swings and take on the slides. That’s been many years now, they are adults now, but it’s at once transformative as I drift back to where I’m standing on this winter day. The buildings may be gone, but the memories are not, I think, as I begin to schuss my way back to the car, dusk approaching as the snow falls windlessly and silently.