One more week in Anchorage. It's bitter cold (-8F) and beautiful with crisp, clear days and just enough snow to make everything bright in the early afternoon sun. I am fortunate to work close enough to where I live that I can walk my commute. It's about 40 minutes each way (longer if there's lots of fresh snow). I walk through a park, around a lake. I see beaver and moose on my way in at times. A long walk twice a day is a great way to center my mind, to relax and focus.

My Nan died yesterday after 5 days in a coma. She, like many others of her generation, was a fighter. She fought to keep her home and family running. When the last of six children were finally out of the house and settled, she battled with Granddad's Alzheimer's disease. After he passed on, she has struggled for the last decade with cancer. Up until the end, she did not know how to let go, how to stop fighting. I hope that she finally knew peace and that, if there is an afterlife, she is with my mom, and her family and loved ones. I will always remember her in the kitchen (how trite), flour up to her elbows, kneading bread; or lying on the couch, covered with dogs and cats, reading a book; her love of the winter and learning to ski at a time in life when most women were settling down. A strong woman and a good one, I hope that I take after her.




Before She Died

by Karen Chase

When I look at the sky now, I look at it for you.
As if with enough attention, I could take it in for you.

With all the leaves gone almost from
the trees, I did not walk briskly through the field.

Late today with my dog Wool, I lay down in the upper field,
he panting and aged, me looking at the blue. Leaning

on him, I wondered how finite these lustered days seem
to you, A stand of hemlock across the lake catches

my eye. It will take a long time to know how it is
for you. Like a dog's lifetime -- long -- multiplied by sevens.