January 14, 2012 at 9:27 AMAfter getting up at 5:30 am in Tulsa on Monday, traveling 4 1/2 hours to Dallas to catch a flight to Seattle, then to Portland, then to Anchorage, and then randomly hitching a ride with a couple from Antarctica to take us to our car (very interesting conversational piece!), and then spending twenty minutes thawing the heater at 1:30 in the morning, George still had the fortitude to drive the last 150 miles through a blizzard to get us home. Little did we know, we barely missed the subsequent avalanches and highway closure. Total trip time: 26 hours.
I have never experienced a more hairy drive through that mountain pass. I think it had something to do with the extreme sleep deprivation that accompanied that final leg of the journey. George and I were both so tired that we took turns hitting one another to stay awake. If that didn't work, the sudden interjections of blinding whiteness woke us up in a hurry. I was so glad we finally made it home safe and sound. Except...
Except that I was so thoroughly disappointed upon my return to this state. It almost seemed as though it didn't want us anyway. I spent the week trying my best to pretend like I was glad to be there for my students, but mostly feeling like I'd returned to prison--a prison of phone calls and laundry and house chores, complete with empty fridge and shopping list, not to mention sub-zero temps and persistent snowfall.
My repaired bow was in transit, due to return on Friday the 13th. Considering my last freakish bow mishap happened on a similar date, I began to speculate my luck on its arrival. I couldn't believe it actually showed up in one piece, ready to go. Unwrapping it from its packaging, I gingerly swiped the noticeably beautiful rehair with rosin and took it to the strings for a spin.
Instantly, my furrowed brow smoothed into satisfaction, then into a smug happiness that only comes when something lost comes back home. I'd missed my bow. I didn't realise how lonely and aimless I'd felt until I came back to that point of reunion and felt its sweet affirmation.
Maybe I'll practice again. And maybe I'll find something to reconsider about life in Alaska, a cold state whose mummifying grip has no hold over the power of a good bow and its glorious sound.
Elizabeth Shaak, you are a healer to me. Thank you for setting things right and doing your best to undo my transgression. My bow was dead, but because of you, it sings again.
Curious about your route home--Seattle, PDX, then Anchorage???usually Sea-Tac comes after PDX.
Anyway, glad you are safe and sound. The post-vacation let-down comes wherever 'home' is, I've found, but blizzards do make it worse (in AZ it was buzzards--same feeling, though).
But seriously, you often sound a bit unhappy with your career, so why stay somewhere you don't like? Of course I realise it's not often as simple as that and maybe relationships and other work can prevent such a move.
But like you pointed out, relationships and job logistics make this not such an easy step. Moving out of Alaska is a big decision, involving a lot of planning. We have to find jobs for both of us in a location that both of us like. I also worry that if I move, I won't like it any better wherever I end up going. I think it would be nice to be closer to family, and some place with shorter winters could certainly help.
Sorry I got Alaska and Canada mixed up, my geography is not very good.
I hope it all turns out well.
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