Honestly, I just happened to glance out my window today and this is the scene that filled my world; the world that is filled with trying to get an Etsy shop up and running , with taxiing kids who-knows-where (by the way, does anyone know where my kids are?), with thoughts of beginning a new part-time job and school starting and dinner, always dinner, and how I'm not paying enough attention to my family or calling my dad enough or spending too much time on my computer.
And then sometimes something so beautiful, like a lone sailboat on a gasp of blue, makes you stop and remember.
In this case, however, it makes me remember breaths of mist and whales:
Yeah, I'm still in Alaska. I'm still looking at the facets of Lake Michigan and waiting, wishing for a whale to appear. Because that would make things perfect. Weird, but perfect.
We have friends who lived in Alaska, moved back to Harbor Springs for a year, and then moved back to Dutch Harbor, Alaska. Mandy said she missed it. Missed a part of Alaska where the average temperature in July is around 60 degrees. 60 degrees, people. In July. She said she missed all you could see in the ocean. She looked in the Lake once and said, "Oh, look! A sea anemone!" and then realized the bright spot in the lake was a piece of plastic.
I oh-so-get that. Because I'm missing that part of Alaska, too. And I know that it's temporary. And I know that it's totally unrealistic to think that our 10 day trip was at all how I could perpetually live. And I know that where I live is really where I want to live. That the scenery here is scandalously flamboyant. That I should seriously appreciate all of it.
But this part of the year is almost over, and actually, this year, it barely even showed up for us to take attendance. And it's back to reality. And I'm a big baby.
But can you really blame me for missing this?
(the wildlife was amazing!)
I'm going to stop my whining. right. now.
Except to say that someone made me dinner every night. While I was on vacation. In Alaska.
Now I'm stopping.
