I get on the phone with my friends and family, and then they ask: “How’s it going up there? What have you been doing? What’s it like?” And I just don’t know how to explain. I go on and on, but it seems like nothing I say is right or true or full enough.
Same goes for when I sit down to write these blog posts. All of my words just fall woefully short of everything it means to live in Nome and see the communities of the Bering Strait Region.
So when my cousin Matt came to visit during Iditarod, it felt something like relief. Finally! Someone from outside could see and experience what I was failing to share over the phone.
He was here when the siren went off in the middle of the night, signaling that another musher was nearing the finish line after a thousand miles. He was here when the aurora materialized overhead and everyone just stood in the middle of the street, craning their necks. And he was here when the race ended and the swirl of exhaustion and euphoria started to settle.
Race season was magic from start to finish. But for the life of me, I can’t really explain how powerful and special it was to witness and report on. That’s why I’m so thankful that Matt could come and see for himself. Most importantly, it was wonderful to be around family, but it was also incredible to just point something out — just gesture around at all that was happening — and have someone understand.
Having that shared understanding with someone from home is really helping me process all that I’m feeling and experiencing as I reach the 10-month mark of living in western Alaska. It’s helping me appreciate all of the outrageously special things I get to see and do on regular basis.
And now, I have another visitor in town. One of my absolute best friends has arrived from Chicago, and I can’t wait for her to see this amazing place that I’ve struggled to explain over endless phone calls. She’ll get a glimpse of what my life is like here, and hopefully she’ll get it. For me, that will really mean a lot.
