Things to miss - posted at 22:57

It's late October. Cold. Colder than it should be in October. Even for Alaska.

The dog looks to the door. Glancing at your watch, you realize that it's been hours since she was out. You open the door and spy a star in the crack you've made - you don't want to open the door too wide lest you let in the cold.

But something about that star lures you outside. In only a long-sleeved tee, slippers, and some flannel pants, you step outside in the 10 degree weather.

And wow.

There is the Aurora.

As it dances to its own beat, you watch alone in the cold, oblivious to the elements, as green peaks thrust up and ebb away, as ribbons snake across their own unfathomably vast canvas. You focus on the light in the sky, too close to the city to enjoy a private unpolluted view, shutting off all other senses, willing the eerie glow to intensify, willing the rest of the world to fall away. Who knows how long you watch, totally focused on that show that has held your fascination these last several years.

A door opens to your left, snapping you out of your reverie. Another dog had the same idea as yours. You turn to your neighbor to share the show with her, but it's dissipated as quickly as your isolation. Now that the rest of the world is being let in, you feel cold, realizing that it's crazy to be outside in such a thin shirt, but sadly realizing your opportunities to be crazy for such a cause are numbered.

How can you live anywhere after you've lived here? You're worried you won't ever find the answer.

Marissa commented:

I'm thinking the same thoughts about my trip to Germany right now. I see how beautiful it is, and how much history is here, and I wonder if I'll be able to look at anything in my city the same ever again.