Alaska

I don’t remember if it was the way the wind blew the salt water, or the way the mountains towered, or the warm embraces of long-missed friends– but when I stood on Bishop’s beach in Homer, Alaska, that spring morning in 2002, I felt like I had come home.

I had returned to my childhood home for a month that turned into two and then three and only ended at six because my oldest brother was marrying my best friend back in Florida.

During those six months I fell in love, again, with the wilds of Alaska. I climbed mountains and watched eagles fly. I touched glaciers and rode in pint-sized airplanes that swooped low over tiny islands in the Aleutian chain. I fished and laughed and taught songs about Jesus to groups of kids.

I visited my friend Shaina and was served chai tea in warm mugs. We shared memories of exploring all over the Bible School campus and she showed me a drawing of “fairyland,” the world we created while playing on the classroom-building lawn. My fingers traced the castles made of clouds and I felt like my childhood jumped out of the framed drawing and into my life again.

I love my home. I love the farm with the flat land and windmills and pine trees. I love the ravine and the creek and the apple trees on the fence line. I love standing on the edge of the driveway and looking out for miles across the Adirondack mountains. I love the maples and the sweetness of spring.

But, today, I miss Alaska.

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2 thoughts on “Alaska

  1. I have had the feeling of having memories so close, it almost hurts, so near, I could almost grab them but can’t. It is hard to miss a place you can’t get to and hard to be content in a place you can’t leave, but somehow, your post captures the beauty of both.

    Like

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