An Alaskan Girl

While enjoying a picnic in a beautiful garden under a huge live oak tree on an ancient plantation by a breezy river, I began to wonder if I was homesick for Charleston ... if I would rather live in this beautiful historic town where I was born and raised, than in my current home state of Alaska. The warmth, the beauty of ancient history, the wafting breeze, the intricate wrought iron fence, the winding river, the majestic trees....

As I sat there, my mind wandered back to our picnics in Alaska - the empty tundra, the breathtaking mountains, the quiet creek, the familiar chill in the air, the wild outdoorsy feel that saturates every Alaskan adventure ... and a sudden, indescribable feeling of homesickness came over me. Homesickness for Alaska, for my tiny unfinished house, for that one little wild acre we have surrounded by nothing but moose and trees....

I realized that, as much as I love my birthplace of Charleston, as much as I miss the architecture, the history, the tidiness of everything down South ... Alaska is my home. It's where my heart is. And as much as I love visiting the friendly South, I'll always be happy to go home to Alaska, to resume my life among the mountains and hunting and snow and rivers. Because, no matter how far I travel, no matter how many beautiful places I see ... there truly is no place like home. My own home. In Alaska.

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