Dear Cedar, 

I’m sorry to have left you once more, but it sounds like you’re in good hands. Did I hear that you got to go shopping in PetCo and pick out your own toy? A frisbee sounds so you. Nice job. I’m getting very good reports from the Boxes, who tell me you have your own special snow spot lounge on their deck.

That makes me happy, kid. Keep it up, and go easy on the panting when you want to play, okay?

Your old man in front of the remainder of the old homestead: the sauna.

I suppose you’re wondering why I left again. This time it’s to go back for a reunion with some parts of the state and myself that I’ve lost touch with. I’ve been able to reconnect with my friends Clo and Bruce who have supported me through all kinds of crazy transitions and moments in life. (A transition is like when you go in and out the door a million times—one of those, but it takes a little longer and seems harder for us humans.)

They’ve been sharing their experiences doing things like crust skiing and winter fat biking and dragging docks to their cabin with snow machines, and flying planes and burying their old house and–I can relate to your panting–Bruce likes to heat the old sauna up to 180 degrees. (That’s even hotter than the Boxes’ house when the sun is out.) Clo and Bruce are both tougher than your dad, but I faked being tough by skiing for most of a morning through amazing trails around the whole city of Anchorage with birch and black spruce and lots of moose tracks. Moose are like a cross between a dog and a dinosaur. 

Speaking of dogs, I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet their dog, Otter. You two would have had some fun together, I know. But when I come home smelling like someone else, please know my heart is still with you. 

Can’t wait to toss that frisbee to you, 

Love, 

Dad

Spoiler alert: Reunited