It has been so amazing to be back to work! Nothing like studying for the Bar to remind me how much I truly love my job (and hope to keep it!). The worst thing -- to me -- about studying for the Bar is the isolation. I crave human contact, and forcing myself to hide and think instead of indulging in community was challenging. Luckily I had some amazing friends waiting to celebrate the moment I was done!
Now that I'm back to my routine, I'm noticing how much things have changed while I was in hiding. Alaska is a place that changes quickly. Just like the weather, the turnover of people is constant. It's an odd place that attracts odd people... wanderers, I guess.
My very first two friends here both recently made the decision to leave Anchorage -- for very different reasons. In part of my endeavor to stop making everything about me, I realize that it's a good decision for both of them. There's a new and exciting adventure ahead for each of them... and if I have learned anything about journeys, it's that they often include goodbyes.
I'm used to goodbyes, but I've never quite become good at them. With my history of leaving, I am acutely aware that when an exit happens, no one can promise an imminent reunion. What I'm not used to is other people leaving. I'm always the one that leaves... and I like to imagine that everything behind me is frozen in time, waiting for my return.
Being the one to leave lends a slight sense of being in control of the return. When people leave me, I don't have that assurance anymore. I was blessed to return to California recently for a dear friend's wedding. I was happy to find that while some things had changed, my friendships were just as sweet and beautiful as I remembered. And so was the California sun.
But while I'm moping, something about staying here and watching people I love leave also makes me feel even more at home in Anchorage -- like maybe I will become a permanent part of this place and I don't always have to be the nomad in my community. I am open to getting used to the "staying" role... and if I pass the Bar, maybe Anchorage might be the right place to do that. I've never tried to be established anywhere before, but anything is possible in this quirky little wonderland.
So to the two dear people I was so lucky to find so early in my Alaska experiment: Feed your wanderlust, but come back soon, dear friends. Maybe Anchorage won't be exactly how you left it, but I'm confident our friendship will be.
Now that I'm back to my routine, I'm noticing how much things have changed while I was in hiding. Alaska is a place that changes quickly. Just like the weather, the turnover of people is constant. It's an odd place that attracts odd people... wanderers, I guess.
My very first two friends here both recently made the decision to leave Anchorage -- for very different reasons. In part of my endeavor to stop making everything about me, I realize that it's a good decision for both of them. There's a new and exciting adventure ahead for each of them... and if I have learned anything about journeys, it's that they often include goodbyes.
I'm used to goodbyes, but I've never quite become good at them. With my history of leaving, I am acutely aware that when an exit happens, no one can promise an imminent reunion. What I'm not used to is other people leaving. I'm always the one that leaves... and I like to imagine that everything behind me is frozen in time, waiting for my return.
Being the one to leave lends a slight sense of being in control of the return. When people leave me, I don't have that assurance anymore. I was blessed to return to California recently for a dear friend's wedding. I was happy to find that while some things had changed, my friendships were just as sweet and beautiful as I remembered. And so was the California sun.
But while I'm moping, something about staying here and watching people I love leave also makes me feel even more at home in Anchorage -- like maybe I will become a permanent part of this place and I don't always have to be the nomad in my community. I am open to getting used to the "staying" role... and if I pass the Bar, maybe Anchorage might be the right place to do that. I've never tried to be established anywhere before, but anything is possible in this quirky little wonderland.
So to the two dear people I was so lucky to find so early in my Alaska experiment: Feed your wanderlust, but come back soon, dear friends. Maybe Anchorage won't be exactly how you left it, but I'm confident our friendship will be.
