Something I’ve learned after living in Alaska is that “breakup” isn’t necessarily a bad word.
This is because in Alaska, breakup refers to a wacky little season that slides between spring and summer, when the air is still pretty cold but warms up juuuust enough for the ground to start thawing. Like the earth at last deciding to take its first big stretch after the settled stiffness of an entire winter.
Ice starts to splinter and crack, roads transform into gushing streams and rivers start to flow again, the whole thing like a great decongestive event that compels waters to swirl and rush into whirlwinds of chaos, causing mud, slush and all varieties of slop and slosh to ensue. In Alaska, spring isn’t all beauty and blossoms — here, the season arrives with a bonafide tantrum of messy intensity.
And this year, breakup feels especially resonant, maybe because life has felt like an endless (and yes, messy!) mega-hibernation. But this new springtime air breathes freshness and life into the days and everything suddenly feels full of promise. The prospect of buds and blooms this year arrive like a whisper of good news. The thought of warm sunshine on shoulders suddenly doesn’t seem so far fetched, and plans for cookouts, bonfires and grilling delicious seafood on an open flame begin to lay some mental groundwork for the seasons of joy ready to unfold.
That’s what I’m holding onto anyway. Because much like life these days, breakup in Alaska can be intensely messy — BUT from what I can see, it’s also how Alaskans know, and rejoice in the fact that that springtime is about to show up at the party.
So, I say here’s to breaking up with anything that feels lousy and gearing up for a wonderful spring and summer to come.
Live wild...and embrace the chaos!
Monica
Pictured Above: A moment when bay waters and low tide pools meet under an early springtime Alaskan sky, with mountains and glaciers as silent witnesses, forever bathing in the constant swirl of it all.
