Ann Larsen

Her hand presses into mine as I'm crying again for the third time.

She counts the weeks on the calendar, and marks them for me to see, so that even when my mind is raging static, my eyes can find something clear to fix onto.

Six months ago, we signed a lease with trembling hands, electrified and terrified to embark on something new together. After debating in the car, teary and desperate and more than anything, asking for solidarity, we'd agreed.

And I'd still second-guessed it. It was all I talked about in my weekly sessions- the fear of commitment as opportunity for abandonment the root of every frustration.

But over the months, I'd allowed myself to believe in it. I'd taken detours down main street just to see the porch swing one more time, so we could rubberneck and chatter excitedly about where we could put potted plants, and whether the siding looked different than we remembered.

And now, nearly a year after I met a beautiful stranger in a coffee shop, the thought of home together pulls me forward, tugs me to my feet when another day at work, smothered behind a hot mask with a pandemic breathing down my neck, feels like more than I can bear.

"We're in this together," she says, and I know that no matter what happens, summer will come.

Ann Larsen is writer who has lived in the Chippewa Valley for three years and is proud to call it home. While working at the local food co-op and (slowly) branching out and participating in community events, she has witnessed the love and solidarity intrinsic to the area. She's excited to get back to exploring Menomonie once the snow (finally!) melts.