Homeward Bound

Our final full day of the trip began with another rough night courtesy of Evie. She had been sleeping better lately, so the regression was a bit of a surprise. Unfortunately, the accumulated lack of sleep had finally caught up with me. I woke with one of those blinding headaches that only seems to come from too many interrupted nights, a combination of exhaustion and irritability that makes even simple tasks feel monumental.

Thankfully, Southeast Alaska had other plans. The weather was gorgeous, and there was no way we were going to waste one of those rare sunny days indoors.

That morning the entire family headed down to Settler’s Cove for a leisurely walk along the beach. Low tide had transformed the shoreline into a giant natural playground.  Joni eagerly wandered from tide pool to tide pool, carefully stepping across seaweed-covered rocks while the Hogan cousins overturned stones to reveal tiny crabs, sea stars, anemones, and all sorts of little creatures hiding beneath. Every discovery was met with wide eyes and another chorus of giggling. Watching the wonder on her face reminded me just how magical these places are through the eyes of a one-and-a-half-year-old. It’s easy to forget how incredible a simple tide pool can be until you’re seeing one for the very first time again. 

Back at the house we gathered around the television for yet another unforgettable World Cup match. Argentina found themselves trailing Egypt by two goals before staging one of the most remarkable comebacks of the tournament. Three late goals completely flipped the game on its head, and by the final whistle the room had erupted into cheers and disbelief.

After an afternoon siesta we made one final excursion to Ward Lake. Few places are more nostalgic for me than that trail. I grew up swimming, hiking, and spending countless summer days around the lake, and every visit seems to unlock another forgotten memory.  It was fun walking those familiar paths while now carrying my own daughters, imagining them making memories in the very same place.

On the drive home we made our annual stop at Totem Bight Park. It’s become something of a family tradition to take photos inside the clan house and among the towering totem poles.  Joni wandered through the site with her usual curiosity, craning her neck toward the massive carvings with a mixture of fascination and bewilderment. To her they must have seemed impossibly tall, colorful giants standing watch over the forest. 

That evening we celebrated my mom’s birthday together. Before dessert, Miche continued one of my favorite family traditions by asking everyone to share something they appreciated about Mom. One by one, each of us reflected on the ways she has shaped our lives and our family. By the end there were plenty of tears, including Mom’s, and more than a few misty eyes around the table.  I always appreciate that Miche insists we slow down long enough to say those things out loud. We often assume the people we love know how we feel, but hearing those words spoken is something entirely different. It’s meaningful, and it’s a tradition I hope our own girls grow up with someday.

The following morning arrived much too quickly. The house slowly transformed from a bustling family gathering back into organized chaos as suitcases were zipped, leftover food was divided, and everyone tried to squeeze in a few last conversations before leaving. Eventually the time came for hugs, tearful goodbyes, and promises to do it all again soon.

Joni handled the flight home like a seasoned traveler. Somewhere along the way, flying with two little girls has become less intimidating and more routine, a sentence I never imagined I’d write. By the time we landed, unpacked, and finally made it through our own front door, exhaustion caught up with all of us. We collapsed into bed grateful for the quiet, but already reminiscing about the previous two weeks.