This week, I voyaged up to the Arctic Circle.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been in Kotzebue, but it was the first time I got off the plane. I vividly remember Laura emailing me my flight itinerary this time last year. “Kots-boo?” “Kots-eh-buoy?” I had no idea how to pronounce it, but I excitedly told everyone it was the far-north pit stop on the way to my new home in Nome.
Tucked just inside the Arctic Circle, I was pleased to see that it was still warm enough to shed my coat and soak up the 19-and-a-half hours of May sunshine in our neighboring hub community. But besides the slush melting on top, Kotzebue Sound is still totally frozen with snow machines whizzing past and several people out ice fishing. A welcome change from Nome, where our sea ice is now floating away into the Bering Sea—disappearing almost as quickly as it materialized in our front yard in November.
I love traveling around this region because while each community is unique and exciting, it’s a reminder of just how small Alaska (and our world!) really is. I tried to meet up with a friend who lives in Kotz, but he was off traveling on Little Diomede—hopefully passing through Nome today. I ended up touring the school I was reporting on with my former ceramics teacher, and shared lunch with someone from Baltimore (where I lived and attended college). In my lodging at the parsonage, I found a book of Karl Rahner’s homilies—the namesake of my senior-year apartments, Rahner Village. I never thought I’d be sitting in Kotzebue, Alaska talking about all the ways to eat Old Bay and reminiscing about living off Northern Parkway.
Returning to Nome is always my favorite part, as if each trip outward draws me closer inward. As we flew over the Kigluaik Mountains, I squinted at Pilgrim Hot Springs and the frozen expanse of Salmon Lake, tracing the Kougarok Road to see how far we might be able to drive out. This past weekend I spent some time with a friend who lives in Fairbanks and met her family here in Nome. We marveled at how quickly spring was commencing, while yearning for the open summer roads. The world will bloom soon—beautifully and fitfully—before sinking into another long winter. I hope to spend this time of light with all the people who’ve made this whole year—even the dark, dark, cold nights—inexpressibly bright.
Okay, a little bit of pre-nostalgia is coming out, but… Thank you for welcoming me and teaching me all there is to love about this place. Thank you for helping me become real, for asking the tough questions and giving the honest answers, for modeling a way of life I would like to keep with me. Thank you for getting to know me and letting me get to know you; for your generosity, humor, and time. I think time is one of the greatest gifts you can give or receive. And I can’t wait to spend mine with you, rafting down the Nome River, building bonfires, fishing, and dancing under the midnight sun.
And soon, our worlds will collide a bit further as KNOM welcomes a new crew of volunteers into our home and our lives. We are gearing up! Enjoying the last few weeks we have alone together, but getting excited to see what directions we will grow toward from here.
