Though it’s been about ten years since I landed in Washington, I will always be an Alaskan. Lately, I miss it. A lot. Not enough to move back, but enough to think that the things that used to be the bane of my existence are now cause for nostalgia.
Like when I woke up this morning and it was pitch black outside. And it was about 22°, which made for a really cold morning walk. But when the sun did come up, it was with intention and determination: no matter what, it was going to be seen, dammit!
It all sounds bad. But it was so very perfect. Maybe it’s because I skipped out on my yearly trip home this year, or maybe it’s because I love winter more then I knew. To commiserate, I chatted with my sister at lunch. She filled me in on the -15° weather and the likelihood of ice fog. (Sounds terrible, right? It made me miss it MORE! Who doesn’t want to be bundled up inside with food and movies?!)
Then she sent me these:
I cannot tell you how much I miss daily backyard moose sightings. And Rosco (wearing his red collar above). And my sister. And Alaska.