I remember visiting Nome.
I remember flying in low over the breaking ice, the speckled white masses covering the vast and cold Bering Sea. Like broken glass, like a tiled mosaic… it was beautiful. The sea looked as black as the mountains beyond – the contrast against the white snow was alarming. “Welcome to Nome, Alaska”they said. “Here you’ll find gold,” they said. The dust puffed up in clouds as we drove to my new home along paved and then graveled and then paved roads. Dilapidated buildings seemed to hang on by one nail. Just one nail separating them from a livable structure and a pile of rubbish. A few beautiful homes stood out amongst the town, their intact structures and un-chipped paint like beacons for good fortune and dreams to come. A reddish-orange fox ran across a driveway. A dog barked in the distance. My new home was waiting – held together with more than one nail.
I remember visiting “White Alice.” There she stood, with her towers of four. So small from a distance, but larger than a large house. Their gray color and industrial structure looked like something out of a Cold War film. Was Big Brother watching us? Can they hear us? The ravens cawed from above, warning us to stay clear of their nesting grounds. Our bikes stood in the distance, seeming to call out to us, “don’t leave us here”… In the brown landscape of late winter, early spring blooms stuck out like hopeful signs of life. Purple, pink and white flowers seemed to grow magically from the rocky ground, so small and delicate with vibrant colors and intricate details. Like the carpeting of a fantastical fairy garden. The sun hung in the sky until the following day… until I could no longer keep my eyes open.