A couple of weeks ago, my two worlds collided. Home came to Nome. It is true that Caitlin cried harder than I did when my Mom bear-hugged me in the airport lobby, but I would just like to clarify that I was still emotionally ecstatic to welcome “Mama Cocca-Leffs” and a couple days later, my Dad and Uncle Richie. Photo evidence:
I remember, before coming here last August, I said goodbye to my sister and Dad in the parking lot. My Dad choked up a bit in a very dad-like way and asked, “Can this be the last time you leave?” And I thought, Man, I should really stop tormenting my parents. But going to Nome had just felt right. As much as I tried to explain what I saw in a distant, unknown, sub-Arctic town to my family and sometimes to myself, it just came down to intuition. Sometimes that’s all the knowledge you need.
I have always deeply struggled with what I refer to as my internal “great divide”, and I suppose everyone experiences some level of it. On one hand, I feel a strong responsibility and desire to live and work close to my family. My Nana Rose was a big believer that if everyone turned inward to take care of their own and those nearby, the world would be a better place. I grew up spending every summer with dozens of family members and was taught that family always comes first. That is my foundation and those are my roots.
But simultaneously, my education has expanded my world and stirred up more questions than answers, as any good education should. I was not satisfied with learning about the world through fear-mongering nightly news programs. So began my exploration of new ideas, perspectives, and eventually, places. That meant leaving home for the sake of personal growth and in order to gain a deeper understanding of the world we’re all living in together. I guess this is what growing up is, but sometimes it still feels selfish to me. Sometimes I wonder what it is that I’m looking for exactly.
I’ve come to realize that when we leave home, we rarely know what it is we’re searching for. We are drawn by unexplainable motivations to follow invisible footsteps with some sort of innate faith that it will all work out. It sounds crazy. In the days before leaving for Nome almost a year ago, I remember realizing where that faith comes from. I do not wander because I’m a fearless adventurer; I wander because I am lucky enough to have love that can sustain over time and distance. I wander knowing I have something to eventually return to.
And in the meantime, at a distance from my own family, I pick up some new loved ones along the way. In just a couple days, my parents were able to see the magic of this place I’ve grown to love through the kindness of its people. They understand a little bit more, I think, about why I leave. A few months ago during a phone chat with my parents, my Dad said:
“You know, as much as it’s hard to have you faraway, you’re bringing us to places we would have never gone otherwise.”
I probably will never shake the need to wander from my bones, but maybe if I can continue to share all I am learning with my family, wandering won’t be going far.
