Eyes tend to follow the road, mesmerized by the dotted center line and straining to see around the bend. Usually the view to the left or right is just more streets, off-ramps, or buildings. Let’s get this over with.
But in Alaska, when I managed to pull my gaze away from the yellow marks I could see miles and miles of a world not made by us. A road became the edge of modern life, and beyond there was a place that lived long before we came, endured our brief presence, then went on without us.
I may miss what I saw back then, the mountains, glacial fields like frozen cream on the horizon, wales, bear, eagles, caribou, the snow in winter, the light in summer, and dancing northern lights blazing in the night. I will never forget what I saw and what it meant to me.
But what I miss the most, what pulls me, what haunts me…is beyond the edge, something so big that I could never contain it. The side of a road where I could almost touch, but never possess the world.
Keep chasing lights.
