While talking to my mom yesterday, she mentioned that my Dad is thinking about retiring this coming March, and a move away from Alaska would follow shortly.
For some reason it made me kind of sad. It was really weird to think that the house I grew up in would belong to someone else. I’ve been conceptually disconnected from Alaska for a long time, but when I’ve gone to visit, it’s always felt familiar. When my parents leave, I don’t know if I’ll have any real reason to ever go back.
I hated living in Alaska, but I’ve always enjoyed visiting and it’s weird to think about not going back, even if it’s only every couple of years. There’s something really satisfying about connecting your early memories to new experiences.