So we boarded an airplane before the sun rose and left Texas headed for Alaska.
There’s not much to say about that Time In Between. It was a series of hurry up and wait.
We had been told, “expect delays”. And so we did. We expected delays of an hour here or there. We did not expect to wait a day here and there. It turns out that in Alaska, especially way out in the villages, one always adds, “weather permitting” to every date and time. And so we hurried to the airport. And then we waited. And waited and waited and waited. About a thousand dollars later, we boarded for our final flight. Copernicus whined the entire way. Everett worried for his python. My eyes stayed glued to the windows.
We watched the ground below peppered with ponds and lakes and streams that run between. Dots below us, but filled with life. Birds and tiny houses here and there. We saw the ocean come into view. Tides and waves appeared as thin white lines. Everything below appeared minuscule, shrunken by distance. It’s not something that makes you feel larger than life. It reminds you of how big it all is, and how tiny we truly are. I wondered if the pilot still took in this view in as much awe as I, with as much wonder and joy as five-year-old Eastyn. I hope so. I’d hate to have that amazement diluted with each flight. I wonder what everyday magnificence I myself have become blind to by daily exposure.
When we landed, the wind was furious. The air was cold and we shivered in what we were comfortable in an hour before. We piled ourselves, our dogs, our snake, and our luggage into one LKSD truck and headed for our new spot on the map.
We are here.
Let this be Home.
*photo is not mine. from the blog “GypsyNester”