I love the May Day parade and festival. I started attending 20 years ago, in college. It was such a free day: great activism, important messages, good people, fun music and dancing… everything about it was great. I remember drumming for hours in a drum circle and dancing in the little lake. Once, I had a crown of fresh daisies on my head and I ended up in the Star Tribune’s photo spread of the festival. Every year I’d get home sunburnt and dirty and overheated. Tradition.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten more wary of crowds and port-a-potties, so I haven’t gone every single year, but I’ve brought Anders and Annika a few times when the weather has been nice. They’ve decided it’s the best festival.

This year I brought Anders (Annika stayed home to play with a friend she hadn’t played with in a long time). He had a bunch of friends who were there, both in the parade and just at the festival, so he ditched me and went off with his buddies into the festival. I walked around on my own, feeling nostalgic. I keep thinking that he must be feeling that same feeling of freedom that I always got when I was younger. It felt like home – everyone was friendly and warm. I could be goofy and relaxed and play. I am glad I’m able to give my kids that experience.

Even though I have a headache from the sun and feel exhausted afterwards.