the snow of a space

It's weird to me how snow can be disgusting in one place and magical in another. Is it right for our experiences with humans in a place to affect how we feel about the land itself? I'm trying to disconnect others from nature, and at the same time connect everything together.

When I moved to Alaska in 2010, it was the hardest move. Part of my childhood had been spent there, so I expected this second move to still be as beautiful as the first. I was met instead with a lot of heartache that is still taking its toll on me, from people in many different places and from myself. It's a pendulum swing where I love the land, but don't think I could ever live there again because of the society. And now I'm wondering what those things given to me in 2010 mean for today.

When I woke up to social media saying there was snow in Portland, I didn't believe it would fall where I lived. But I looked out the window and there it was, white snow, and I was happy for it. Compensation for hardship comes slowly, and maybe Alaska is trying to say she's sorry. Or maybe she's saying, "Hah, you'll never escape me!" Maybe she still has some things to teach me, even after all these years. Maybe that's why I'm still talking about it, because there's still unfinished business.