Coming Home

At the sound of the captain’s voice, Jessi opened her eyes, “Folk’s we’re coming up on final approach. The time in Anchorage is 6:00 a.m., temperature is 48 degrees, looking to your right, we have a beautiful view of Denali.” Lifting the window shade, Jessi smiled and sighed. Despite her emotional exhaustion, she felt that familiar tingle inside, Alaska had always been that ‘take-your-breath-away’ kind of place to her.

Fifty years ago, Jessi’s grandparents had homesteaded outside Homer in an area called Fritz Creek. Her mother, wanting a bigger life than rural Alaska promised, left shortly after high school, while Uncle Ted had stayed, running the family fishing business with her grandfather, and building his own cabin on the 140-acre property.

Disembarking Jessi tried to get her emotions under control. She still could not believe that Uncle Ted had died. Brian Carson, her Uncle’s lawyer, was the one who had called her two days ago. “Fishing accident,” he had said. It felt surreal. Just last year her mother had been killed in a freak hit and run accident and Uncle Ted had been her rock. Now he was gone too. Moving toward the exit with the other passengers she felt alone and adrift. At the baggage carousel she gave her head a shake, as if to dislodge the dark thoughts, ‘Get it together Jess’, she said to herself then grabbed her suitcase and walked to the rental car desk.

Driving out of the airport she glanced at the clock on the dash. ‘Two hours until I meet Brian’, she thought, ‘plenty of time to get breakfast.’

At 9 am, Jessi walked into the attorney’s office and gave her name to the young gentleman behind the desk.

“I will let Mr. Carson know you are here. Ms. Delany,” he responded.

Jessi turned to sit but a door to her right opened and a man in a dark chocolate suit with ginger hair and beard reached out his hand as he approached her saying “Please Jessi, I’m Brian, come right in, I’m so sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. Ted, your Uncle Ted, well, he was good friend.”

They stepped through the door into a well-appointed office. Brian walked behind the desk and motioned to the chair in front saying to Jessi, “May I get you anything?” “No”, she replied, “I’m fine.”

Brian took his seat and began, “My family’s firm has represented your family for years, and through that time, your uncle and I became friends,” his voice began to crack. “I thought there would be many more years, as I’m sure you did too.” His emotion was getting to Jess and she simply nodded.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Alright then, down to business, simply put, your uncle has left everything to you. The homestead property, his fishing business, all financial accounts, everything. I also have 2 other items which were kept in my office safe as he requested.” He handed Jessi a small white envelope upon which was written ‘Delany Homestead Keys’, then handed her a large manila envelope, ‘For Jessi’ was written on the front. She opened it, and out slid a small Moleskien notebook. Flipping through the pages, she noted dated entries in two very distinct hands. “It looks like a journal,” she commented looking up at Brian. “I’ll read it at the cabin.” He nodded as she slid the little book back inside the envelope and tucked it in her purse.

An hour later Jessi was leaving Brian’s office. While the increased physical weight of the envelopes and papers in her shoulder bag was negligible, the emotional weight of it was hitting her. She was tired, and all she wanted to do was get to the cabin. Jessi needed to find some coffee and hit the road. The homestead was still five hours away.

The drive from Anchorage to Homer was stunningly beautiful, and soon her exhaustion was replaced by awe. Picture-perfect blue sky and sunlight created diamond sparkles on each body of water she passed. The trees and grasses burst with every hue of green and the snow topped mountains were blindingly white in contrast with the dark blues and purples of their bases.

The scenery ignited her memories and they played like a movie in her mind’s eye. Christmas, age 5. She could still feel her grandfather’s scruffy beard on her soft cheek, his rough hands holding her and his deep voice in her ear. Her grandmother, soft and warm, gently laughing at her for initially fearing Uncle Ted as he stood in the doorway of the cabin, all bundled up and blocking the light. A bear of a man, and taller than his father, he had a booming voice and large laugh which seemed to shake his whole body. When he got close to her, her olfactory senses exploded. He smelled of fish and saltwater, wood and forest moss. No longer afraid, the smell of him felt safe, like he was part of the earth itself.

That memory was followed by her next 6 summers in Alaska. The endless daylight, and busy-ness of the days themselves. They went fishing and clamming, eating some and preserving the rest. She helped plant the garden, and they gathered seaweed during walks on the beach for fertilizer. Picking berries equaled pies and jam! At night they played games or worked on puzzles. Grandpa and Uncle Ted loved games that “make you have to figure something out”, and they were constantly creating word riddles for Jessi. Those summers were the best.

Unfortunately, everything changed the year she turned 13. Due to an ear infection, Jessi had to delay flying to Alaska. Her grandparents decided to use that time to fly to their friend’s remote fish camp. They never made it. The accident was ruled as weather related but it did not make it any easier to those left behind.

‘The pain of losing someone you love does not ease no matter what the cause,’ She thought and pulled over to wipe her eyes.

Getting back onto the highway she thought about her visits with Uncle Ted after her grandparents were gone. She stayed for two weeks instead of two months but loved it just the same. They went hiking and berry picking, searched for fossils on the beach and of course, went fishing, yet being at the homestead was her favorite memory. They ate outside all the time. If it was raining, they ate at the table on the porch. If not, at the table by the big tree, and after dinner they played games. “In the land of the midnight sun,” Uncle Ted would say, “we don’t need lightbulbs in summer.” Even though he had a guest room, he often let her stay in her grandparent’s cabin. Sleeping under their down blankets, she felt close to them once again. When it was time to leave, she did not want to go.

Jessi’s trip down memory lane had her in emotional and sensory overload when she topped the hill and Homer came into view, she gasped and said aloud ‘Oh My God’, and quickly pulled into the look out. There, laid out in brilliant technicolor was Homer, the Spit and Kachemak Bay. Jessi breathed deeply the salt air, took one more panoramic look, and hopped back into her car. She knew the view from her Uncle’s place was equally amazing and she was excited to get there.

Twenty minutes later, Jessi pulled into the driveway and parked. She grabbed her purse and the bag of groceries she had picked up on her way out of Anchorage, then walked up to the cabin door. Setting everything down on the porch table, she opened the white envelope. Six keys on a ring all clearly tagged, and a note from Uncle Ted. “Jessi, I’ve left you something in my gun safe. The combination is me, you, your mom. You will figure it out, Love Uncle T.” followed by a smiley face. She shook her head and laughed, ‘even now’, she thought, ‘he was giving her a word riddle’.

After getting settled, Jessi opened the bottle of wine, poured herself a glass and fixed herself a small charcuterie plate. Tucking the journal under her arm, she took her food and drink out to the front porch. Going back inside, she went into Uncle Ted’s room, opening the closet to reveal the gun safe. ‘Our birthday’s’, she thought and began spinning the dial. Six incorrect tries later, she looked at the note again. “Me, you, your mom.” ‘HA! She exclaimed, ‘It’s the number of the letters’, and she spun the dial to 2 (me), 3 (you) then 7 (your mom). ‘Click’, the lock released, and she opened the door. Inside there was a box with her name on top. She picked it up, shut the safe and returned to the table outside. Using the knife on the wine key, she cut the tape and lifted the lid. Underneath there was a note in Uncle Ted’s firm hand.

“Remember my three rules.” She did and spoke them out loud as she read,

“#1. Never get below a quarter tank of gas.

#2. Always carry a knife

#3. Always have walking around money.”

She removed the note and exclaimed, “Holy Shit!” The box was full of neatly wrapped stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Counting it out, Jessi realized that there was $20,000 there. “Oh my God Uncle Ted…” she said, shaking her head as she sat down, she picked up her wine glass.

After taking a drink, she munched on a cracker, and opened the journal. Tucked between the front cover and first page she noticed a small envelope. Removing it she took out the folded piece of paper inside and began to read.

“Dear Jessi, I hate to sound cliché’, but if you’re reading this, I must be dead,” the note stated in Uncle Ted’s humorous but matter of fact manner. “I plan on giving you this journal next year on your 21st birthday. But after your mom died so suddenly, I thought I had better have a backup plan in case life throws another curve ball. The journal is the story of how your grandparents met, their settling here in Alaska and some notes from me. And there’s another gift your grandparents wanted you to have when you turned 21. It’s in a small tin inside the birdhouse on the front of the outhouse.” Jessi automatically looked in that direction, seeing the sweet little green bird house above the door. Even though both cabins had full amenities, each also had an outhouse. Required necessities when building their homes, and still handy to have if the pipes froze. Her curiosity on fire, Jessi grabbed the ladder out of the woodshed, and pulled the hatchet out of the chopping stump as she walked by. Leaning the ladder up against the front of the building, she climbed level with the birdhouse. Carefully inserting the hatchet blade between the back of the bird house and front of the building, she wiggled and wedged it until it was free. Turning it over she saw that there was a gap in the wood on the back. She tipped the birdhouse over, and out slid an old tobacco tin.

‘Not very rusted,’ she thought, ‘Uncle Ted must have put it there just last year.’ Taking it back to the table, she opened the lid and exclaimed ‘Oh!’. Bright and shiny in contrast to the silver of the tin, was a beautiful gold nugget. She picked it up turning it around in her hand then set it on the table. As she looked up and out at the view, a big bull moose, walked from the thicket below. Raising his head and looking squarely at Jessi he took a couple steps forward, bobbed his head up and down twice, then turned around and disappeared the way he’d come.

“Yes Uncle,” she thought, “I’m home.”