The Nevada chapter

"If you want to learn journalism, work for a small town newspaper."

"The sky is bluer out west."

These two ideas took hold of me 15 years ago, in my senior year of college. The first was shared by a professor, the second by my friend during a spring break driving tour of large, rectangular states. It was on that trip I declared, with the certainty that only a person in their early 20s can muster, "Whatever happens to me after graduation, I'll be OK... as long as I can see mountains."

12 things I didn't understand about my parents until I had kids

1. They knew when I was lying, even if they didn't always call me out for it.

2. When my mom let me sleep with her on scary nights, it was as much for her comfort as for mine.

3. My dad wasn't just being contrary; he truly couldn't fathom why anyone would like that song or pay that much for those jeans.

Two Questions for Fargo

When I visit a place from my past, I always carry two questions: What has changed? What remains the same?

This week, I'm in Fargo. So I asked.

My high school now has a water slide, but the strange dome on top of the building remains.

How I spent my summer

The summers of my childhood were LONG. I remember a vast expanse of  hot days stretched out before me, wide open and full of boredom and wonder. I explored the woods behind my house. I played Atari and watched Nickelodeon and worked on jigsaw puzzles. I went grocery shopping with my mom and I called friends in the middle of the afternoon, asking if they could play.

My friends and I rode our bikes to Mini Mart to buy New York Seltzer and Whatchamacallit bars. We rode to our grade school and played on the playground, slightly weirded out by the ghost-like building, quiet and closed. We played endless variations on tag and hide-and-seek. Our parents let us stay out until the sun went down - and although Fargo wasn't quite the Arctic Circle, we felt a bit of the magic of the midnight sun.

Day 10: Homecoming

We did it.

The Wiants drove from Minnesota to Washington, DC and home again. We did it without catastrophe: no accidents or speeding tickets, no burglaries or natural disasters. We avoided being those people walking to the service station for a can of gas (that was me in 1997 on 13th Avenue in Fargo, wearing my Dairy Queen uniform) or the family pulled over on the shoulder of the interstate so that a toddler can go potty in a ditch (that was me in 2009 somewhere outside Kearney, Nebraska).

Day 9: Halfway Home

We drove 600 miles today and are more than halfway home.

It was not a very exciting day.

We had our first Waffle House experience, we saw a couple of possibly Amish families riding horse-drawn buggies across bridges, and we accidentally visited Cuyahoga National Park as part of a meandering restroom quest.

Day 8: Farewells

Our last morning with the cousins was bittersweet.

We persuaded the kids to pose nicely for some photos.

We recreated a group shot from 5 years ago, when William and Evie were still relatively new to the world.

And then we let everyone loose for a dance party.

If the photos appear blurred, well, that's a pretty accurate depiction of the morning's events.

The kids hugged goodbye, as William and Charlotte set off for a short trip while we ventured forth to explore a last bit of DC and Virginia. It's a good thing we leave tomorrow; our tourist karma is running out.

The Lincoln Memorial was closed due to vandalism, and the National Mall was nearly inaccessible due to a presidential appearance and related street closures. The area around Mt. Vernon turned out to be the Bermuda Triangle of iPhone navigation, leading us on a winding and repetitive tour of the great tangled freeways of northern Virginia. By the time we reached Washington's estate, all we had time for was an ice cream break and a few minutes of tree-sitting.

Thankfully, the day wasn't all travel snafus and melting ice cream.

As with each day of our trip, we saw some high-quality people.

We had lunch with our friend Darcy. She's part of the online community that came together when I was pregnant with Evie. We've shared the trials and tribulations of parenting from babyhood through kindergarten, and our second children are only two weeks apart. We've lost weight together, introduced one another to new music, and been in regular conversation for over six years, though this was only the second time we've met in person. It was easy to pick up just where we left off.

We spent the evening in the company of Wiants. Sam's uncle and cousins reinforced what I knew about Wiants: they are friendly (though not necessarily extroverted), clever people with a propensity for goofiness - especially in the presence of children.

Taking a break from the silliness of adults, the kids relaxed with cartoons.

Our voyage of reunions is concluding. No more "You look great!" hugs or "It's been too long" goodbyes.

Starting tomorrow, it will just be the four of us and 1100 miles of road back to Minnesota. Our next reunion will be with the cats, and I doubt they will be pleased with us.