All that I know is
No matter how far away
This is the place we were made
- Maisie Peters, Place We Were Made
My flight last weekend from Minneapolis to Fargo traced the route of the glaciers that sculpted Minnesota’s landscape. From the window, lake after lake stretched across the countryside, illustrating why Minnesota is the “Land of 10,000 Lakes”.
Interestingly though, in geological time, Minnesota’s lakes are young. The glaciers only retreated around 12,000 years ago. In contrast, Lake Baikal in Russia was not covered with glaciers and is 25 million years old!
Since I have teenagers, I like to think of Minnesota lakes as teenagers.
When the ice retreated, the landscape was raw and unfinished. Lakes formed where massive blocks of ice were buried and eventually melted, leaving holes that filled with water. Over time fish, bugs, and aquatic plants colonized the lake, forming the lake’s ecosystem. Sometimes new species left a lasting mark. Zebra mussels, for example, can permanently alter a lake’s ecosystem. Other changes, like an invasive plant infestation, can be managed before they reshape the lake entirely.
Teenagers are like newly formed lakes. The basin is already there—their personality, talents, temperament, and potential. But the details of who they become haven’t been filled in yet. Like a young lake, much of that filling happens beyond our control. Over time friendships, heartbreaks, victories, disappointments, risks, and discoveries create their lake ecosystem. Some permanently alter them, some can be managed.
Lately I feel like I’ve been watching this happen in real time.
This is the first summer my daughter can drive herself. For years, her world was bounded by where and when my husband and I could drive her. Now she has the freedom to explore on her own. On the one hand, it has really helped simplify my life. No more leaving work to bring ski gear to school at noon when she leaves for a ski meet. No more waiting up late for a text asking to be picked up from a friend’s house.
On the other hand, I find myself thinking about all the places she’ll go that I won’t see and all the experiences she’ll have that won’t involve me. That’s both exciting and a little unsettling. But taking risks and making her own decisions is a necessary part of growing up.
As a parent, I’ve spent years helping shape her shoreline. Now, more than ever, my role is to watch, guide when needed, and trust the ecosystem to develop. The glacier shaped the basin, but it couldn’t control what would eventually fill it.
Standing in the driveway last night, watching my daughter drive away with her brother in the passenger seat, I realized that’s exactly where I am. The basin is there. Now it’s time to see what kind of lake she becomes.
Moriya Rufer is a lake biologist and entomologist with 20 years experience working with and loving lakes in northern Minnesota.
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