Alaska

It has been a little over 5 years since we took our long journey away from our homeland, our mother-ship, our Alaska. At the time, I was so excited to leave. I had spent most of my life there (from age 4-24). I was longing for adventure, something new, and exciting. Something different. I was done with Alaska, finished.

I am being VERY brief in my descriptions . . . 

My young years in Alaska: With endless snow in the winter, and endless (literally) sun in the summer -- it was a child paradise! Christmas was magic because you were just a polar-bear step away from the North Pole (and you-know-who!) I can still remember nights sitting by the fireplace, Christmas decor twinkling, listening to Nat King Cole singing The Christmas Song, and watching the snowflakes falling from the pink-tinted sky. 

Christmas was always white, always Magic. I loved being a child there. We had a beautiful home, and we always had fun together. We would travel, often. We would see things, daily, that tourist would pay good money to see. My childhood memories are rose-colored, or I should say . . .  Aurora-colored.

My youth in Alaska: Alaska is a hard place to be a teenager. I thought early-morning Seminary was going to finish me. It was always cold, dark, and cold. Just getting around was a chore, on the thick ice. I can remember, one time, my friend Emily was driving and we landed high-centered on a huge snow-berm. Luckily, some men stopped and picked-up the car, so we could carry on. Again, with Emily, we hit a car (in the winter) who was stopping to look at a moose (not a good idea on a busy road!) It just so happened that we hit the owners of our favorite Chinese food restaurant (we went EVERY Friday night). On a seminary morning I rode with Chris Christensen (in a car crammed-full of teenagers) and he slid on the ice and  hit a light pole. . . let's see, what other car accidents can I think of?? Too many! I also spent some (a lot of) quality time on crutches after a sledding accident. Anyhow, youth, high school (and all that good stuff) seemed extreme there to me. Christmas was still magical, but the other winter months did not shine quite so brightly (at least in my memories). There were lots of good time, and lots of times that seemed a little "dark" in my mind (winter can get to you.) It was a good teenage-life, but it was a hard teenage-life.  (I am being brief, very brief.)

Married life in Alaska:  I spent 4 years of my life with my only outdoor-view being a tall fence that was caving-in. This was the view I had while being a stay-at-home mother to young Sammi and Daniel. We managed an apartment building, for those 4 years, which was located in what some may call "The Ghetto".  There were frequent car break-ins, vandalism, windows broken, murders every now-and-again, and drunks in our entry way (to list just a few of the perks). When we first moved in, the building was full of a colorful array of tenants. We had drug-dealers, prostitutes, chain smokers, criminals, etc. etc. Within 2 months time, they all got the boot (that was fun) and we filled the building with Mormons. It was called (and still is) the Mormon Mansion. It became a "safe haven" amidst the chaos of the neighborhood. Our new tenants were family, friends, and people who quickly became our friends. While managing this building, Charles was doing full-time school, working, he was the Elders Quorum President, and we were car-less. We were poorer than dirt. It was from this place, this scenario, that we left Alaska -- with the hope of better things. 

Which brings me back to the beginning. I wanted something different, something new. When we moved from Alaska, we relocated to Spokane, Washington -- for law school (3 years). It was a beautiful place. It took awhile to get used to the change, but as soon as I did -- I fell in love with Spokane. I loved the trees, the homes, and the change -- it was exciting! I enjoyed the years we spent there, so much. I was sad to leave. Now, in Idaho, we are enjoying our time here, too. Life has been sweet for us. We have had good times, really good times. 

But something is missing . . . I have had this "empty" feeling in my gut, for awhile now. I first attributed it to my desire for more children (the pause button is on in that department). But then, it came to me . . . we are alone. I mean, not really alone, but -- without family. I know you are suppose to find family in your ward, and it is possible to do, I know, I know. We have some great friends -- that I love. But it is different. I miss . . . my real family. We are alone here, and sometimes I feel it, deeply. Sometimes, I don't mind at all, and sometimes -- I do. 

As I was lying in my bed the other night, I started thinking about Alaska -- my homeland, my mother-ship. (It is something I never do.) A great surge of energy flew through my body, and memories began to swirl through my brain. I don't know why, or what it meant? I have purposefully cut myself off from all "feelings" about Alaska. It is a self-defense mechanism I use -- so I don't get hurt. I have to use it for family, too, sometimes. It keeps me safe from my true feelings; therefore, avoiding any pain. 

My family is in Alaska (most of them) otherwise, I don't know that the place would hold so much power over me. But as I thought on my family, and my homeland -- I longed to be there, again, with my people.  Something I would not dare have claimed -- just a short time ago, will now freely flow from my lips . . . I love Alaska. I do. There, I said it. And my family, well, my heart longs to be with you . . .

I have experienced change, something different, and lots of excitement. It is all grand, it truly is. We are happy, wherever we are. I have enjoyed these new places, tremendously.  But, as the saying goes, and in my heart I truly feel . . . There is no place like home. No place like . . . Alaska.