Leaving Kathi

The train station in St. Paul has a huge, cavernous depot that was quiet and orderly as we mid-westerners waited for our 11:30 train. Goodbyes are hard, so we insist it's only until our next visit. 
Earlier in the day, Kathi and I took a Lyft to the nearby Wayzata for a lakeside lunch. As she straightened the hood on my black & white striped hoodie, she said if I didn't watch out it would soon be hanging in her closet, so I gave it to her. She promptly plucked a heavy Dale of Norway sweater out of her closet and gave it to me. Kathi has always given me clothes, and they're always such nice clothes, always a bit too big; what does that say? I suppose it says we are sisters, and I already miss her.