Amidst the bloom of spring on facebook via announcements of 80 degree days, green grass photos, and sunkissed faces … I have to tell you, 1. I’m really happy for you; and 2. I am so freaking jealous.
Number 2 spurred a catacalysmic plunge into the “How did I get here?” blues. I’ve narrowly missed hitting rock bottom by answering this existential quandary in the most literal manner possible.
How did we get here?
First, we flew from a summer with family in Colorado to Seattle. (Really, this photo is NOT representative! I flew with the wee passengers while Mitch drove 18 hours in 18 hours. While in flight I was too busy cleaning up the sprite Z spilled all over the guy next to her, trying to get Lucy to stop crying, and apologizing profusely to every one of our fellow passengers to snap a photo, darn it!) This leg of the journey, in itself, was a huge feat. It's also the reason I haven't flown "solo" since then.
From Seattle, we took a boat and sailed all the way to the end of the world.
For three days we sailed through Canadian and Alaskan channels past Orca Whales, Humpbacks, and under eagles. It was spectacular. Really.
Once she got over the Ferry not being a Fairy, our cabin mates were pleased with the idea of sleeping in bunks.
We disembarked in Haines, Alaska. Haines optimizes exactly what I thought Alaska would be. Colosal, jagged, snowcapped mountains reflecting in the glacier blue water; whales breaching; overflowing flower baskets; a colorful main street dotted with outdoor eateries and art boutiques; patagonia and birkenstock townies greeting each other on the sunny streets as bald eagles soared overhead. It was like Telluride but with nature on a much grander scale and development on a lesser scale. I think about 1500 people live there year round. I remember thinking, "Wow! I am going to like living in Alaska!"
We drove through the Al/Can highway right as the fall colors were at their peak. It was epic.
For three days we were in the car bumping down an endless ribbon of black asphalt through the Yukon territory. Vast, endless, untouched "nothing"in every direction imaginable; the biggest "something" I'd ever experienced.
When we finally saw the driveway of our new house for the first time, I couldn't breathe.
And we saw our house. And I thought, "Wow."
I sat on the stairs with my girls and marveled. How lucky we were to get to live in a magical little log cabin, on a hill, in the middle of the forrest. I couldn't believe this was my life.
And I remember thinking, "I am so lucky to be here, on the edge of the planet, with three of my favorite people in the world."
And, when I remind myself of this, of how I got here … I still feel the exact same way. Lucky.
In an indefatigable attempt to trump this “the grass is literally greener” bout, I’m remembering how lucky I am to have this experience. And, that our green grass day will come.
All of this reminds me of a quote I sort of remember, but have no idea who said it or where I saw it. So I have to paraphrase, “If you’re wondering where you should be in life, look down at your feet.”
Mine are wearing break up boots. Who knew?
Sending the power of presence and gratitude in the moment,
New Age Alaskarella