I’ve lived in all sorts of homes. Cul-de-sacs in the suburbs. Dorm rooms on campus. Apartments in big cities. Basement lofts in old warehouses. And now, the KNOM volunteer house.
I think this house has the most personality of any place I’ve ever lived. It’s because it’s been lived in. I mean lived in. You can tell from the pictures of past volunteer groups that line the stairwell, and the notes and signs left behind in various rooms. You can tell when you sit on the couch and it feels only the way that a couch that has been sat on by a lot of people for many years does. And you can see it on the one section of wall in the kitchen where everyone is supposed to mark their height for some reason?
When I first got to the house, I was overwhelmed by all this personality. It wasn’t mine yet. And there was so much STUFF. Now, I’ve learned to value this sort of shared space. You’ll never go without hats or gloves, because the drawers are overflowing with them. You’ll always have a new movie to watch because of the rows of DVDS & VHS & burned discs sent to us from friends and family that are all over the living room. We have an entire bedroom turned into a library with books left behind.
This house has so much stuff that it has extra bedrooms, which are constantly filled by those passing through. The “KNOM hostel” we like to call it. Those extra spaces have housed not only past and current volunteers, but mushers, reporters, family, friends, friends of friends, and countless teachers from various communities in our region. Some stuck for days when the weather is bad.
There are things you learn only by living with someone, whether it’s for a year, or just a day or two. You don’t know tired until you wake up from a nap and a musher who just spent 9 days on the Iditarod trail shows you what tired really means. Or what small town living is really like, until a teacher from Wales or Diomede tells you about their day to day, sitting around your table. Or what it’s like to not only try whale meat, but watch someone prepare it in your kitchen.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about where my next home will be. Will I move back in with my parents for a bit? Will I crash in a random city with a friend? Will I live in a van like Francesca is trying to get us to do? I don’t know, but what I do know is I sure will miss this “hostel” on the Bering Sea.
