When I lived in Alaska at age 20, we military wives would ride the rickety old Army bus into Fairbanks. The mountainous, two-lane Richardson Highway had no guard rails and sheer drop offs. The bus driver was a young medic from the dispensary who drove like a maniac and told us pregnant women childbirth horror stories. He'd say weird things like, "Did you know that when I take your blood pressure, I could possibly pump that cuff up so tight I could blow your veins?"
I took my students on a field trip last week to a nature center. On the way I noticed a car with Alaska license plates. Coincidentally, the driver's husband was stationed in Fairbanks. We chatted briefly. She said she was one of the last women to deliver her baby in the old hospital where I delivered my daughter. I told her about my horrific experience. She said she completely understood, and that not much had changed. She said they had torn down that hospital and had rebuilt a new one on base. Although it was four decades ago, sometimes it seems like only yesterday I was walking the gravel road to the general store in town. I cocooned in winter darkness.
Tonight there is a meteor shower. I think I'll go take a peek. The weather has gotten a little cooler, which makes for good sleeping but is not good for my appetite. I made zucchini bread with walnuts and blueberries, and also Red Lobster cheddar bay biscuits from a package, and they taste just like them. I had three (OMG 3!) with vegetable beef soup. Winter isn't even here.