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Headed home


It's funny how you can feel nostalgic about a place after just a short time there.  Of course, it's rarely just the place that tugs at your heartstrings.  It's the memory of the people you knew and the experiences you had.  I have great affection for Los Angeles, despite the fact that it is, for most intents and purposes, one giant, exhaust-shrouded, sun-scorched, cement covered mass of urban confusion.  How could such a place make a person feel all warm and fuzzy?  But it does.  I also love the tiny town of Solvang, San Francisco, Denver, Gunnison of course and, harking way back, Portland.  Hilo gives me a little tingle every time I emerge from the airplane and into the warm, damp air, where it smells like flowers and coconut oil and the sea.  I discovered some feelings of nostalgia for the University of Anchorage campus today.  That surprised me.  After all, wasn't I just put through the ringer here, sleep deprived, brain tissue soaked and then wrung out like a wet washcloth?  I went downtown to shop around, eat one more hunk-o-halibut and check out the museum.  It was nice.  I returned to campus and, walking the familiar path from the bus station near the library to the dorms, I got the feeling. 
"Where is everybody?" I though.  "I'm going to miss this place."  Leaving feels a little like leaving home.  I guess that's because it has been home for the past two weeks.  What a fantastic experience!  I've met people I now consider friends and whom I know will remain so into the future.  I can't wait to come back.  For now though, I am looking forward to seeing my furry babies again.  And the not-so-furry one, too.

It's 11:30 p.m. and the sun has finally set here.  I'm the last of the writers to leave.  My plane lifts off for Seattle at 2:30.   

A hui hou.  Aloha! 

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