When I would come home from college on breaks, I would get pretty nostalgic.  I missed home, a lot. Sometimes nostalgia absolutely kills me. Sometimes it hurts so bad that I wish I didn’t have the memories that I missed.  Very occasionally it feels good, and in those moments, I love to reflect. That means getting away from everyone, and letting those feelings flood into me and appreciate how important that particular moment and feeling actually is.  So late at night, on my college breaks, I would bundle up and walk down to the mile long runway that the military had built as a part of the air force base in Galena.

It was always cold and absolutely quiet minus the crunching of the snow under my feet while I trecked the 2.5 miles to the airport. Galena is so small there is no air traffic at night, so I would waltz right out into the middle of the runway, lay down and just look up at the northern lights. I could have laid there for hours if it wasn’t so cold, reflecting on the memories and experiences in this little remote Alaskan village.

The other night I went to a Sunday night college group that is held in the Portland Foursquare Church.  Having not been to church in a very long time, it was more about saying hi to some old friends.  During the service I walked around the building in the empty halls, the dark gym, the kitchen, everywhere. I just went wandering, like I used to when I was going to this service five years previous. I had just moved in to Portland in 2004 and got really involved in this church. So when I was there again, I was just so happy to be able to revisit those feelings, and in a place that wasn’t a church, it was just a big beautiful structure full of memories. I found the piano in the empty room that I used to go play when I needed to get away from everyone at the service, and it was there still just waiting for me.

I remember this place. I remember wandering the halls. I remember the piano in the room behind the kitchen. I remember everything.