Insane Ramblings

I’m sitting on a plane bound for Seattle and ultimately Anchorage typing out this document to be published when I’m back home (or on the ground depending on how long my layover is)

Home.

That word implies so many things, at least for me.

Until the age of 27, “home” was North Carolina.  The state I was born and raised in.

For the first few years of living in Alaska, we continued to call NC home.  Even though, really; home was where we slept every night.  In our bed.  With each other.  With our animals.  With our wordly possessions.  Wherever we happened to be living in Alaska.

Then one day-I can’t remember who said it first-we started referring to Alaska as our home.  When we travel to North Carolina, we say “North Carolina” instead of “home” now.

That speaks volumes.

Volumes of bittersweet nostalgia and hints of new adventures on the horizon.

Everytime we return to NC, we get “homesick”.  Our families are there.  The old familiar places are there.  A lot of our childhood friends are there.  When we return, we fit right in, picking up our southern accents, ordering sweet  or unsweetened tea versus iced or hot tea.  Anyone who doesn’t know us would never know we no longer live there.

I guess that’s what makes it so hard.  Fitting in so ultimately and comfortably and then returning to a state that still seems a little foreign but more and more like “home.”

And as I mingled with friends and family these past three weeks, the lines between the two states began to blur.  The 3000 mile swath seemed to merge.  I missed Alaska…my new love, yet; I longed to be back in NC with my family..with my friends.

And now I’m confused.  I’m excited to be returning to my house, in my village, where my animals and friends are.  I’m intensely saddened to have left my old familiars behind.

Is it possible to call both home?