The other night, I found myself driving on a road out of Nome, with no real intention other than to drive. This has always been one of my favorite things to do, especially in a moment of restlessness.
I was not ready to go to bed, night was setting in, and I wasn’t ready to be done with my day. The night air was crisp as I drove my friends, side by side, down the road. The sun was dipping below the mountains that lay to the west. The peaks became silhouettes on a brilliant orange backdrop.
The headlights suddenly lit up a stop sign, and I slowed to a stop. The side by side idled while I sat and enjoyed the cold air that cut into my lungs and the dwindling light. It was nice to have this moment alone to just think about myself and cruise down this dirt road. I kept on after a few minutes of enjoying the waning sunset and then turned towards the dark sky that lay to the right.
As I sped down the road, a faint cloud slowly appeared in the sky. It looked almost like smoke from a campfire, except it lay in the star-speckled sky. As my eyes adjusted, I began to see that the translucent wisp was actually green. The recognition of the hue sparked the realization that I was viewing the aurora. The faint haze grew into a strong pulse, streaks of yellow and red mingling with the dominant green. I stood on the dark road, silence engulfed the tundra, and the lights played above me.
Eventually, I left the lights to fall asleep. On my walk to work the next morning, the only lights that lay above me were the stars. The next day, my mind wandered to the night before — with wonder about when I might next see the aurora.
