Who knew a drive to Wasilla would be just what the doctor ordered? Contrary to what I thought, driving 12 hours over the span of 48 hours left me feeling like new. Maybe it was seeing termination dust on mountains or the flurries of yellow leaves spinning eddies in creeks. Maybe it was that good cry to the story on NPR mid drive or the way mountains always make me feel so small and so full of wonder.
Somewhere on the Parks Highway I loosened up and let go. I made peace with summers end. I'm ready. Ready to surrender to another Alaskan winter. She's here. She's lingers in the morning after the cold snap of night. I want her back. Her moonlight and light bouncing snow. I want skeleton trees and a low hanging moon. I want wood stoves and snow fall.
The leaves have dropped. Nights are cold. Stars are back. Here we go. . .