A Reflection on the Summer

As I ready myself to leave behind the tight embrace of Skagway’s mountains for, eventually, the pleasant rolling hills of southern Indiana, I recall a conversation I had with my mother a few weeks ago following another bout of self-doubt over my coastal waterbird project: Eres muy brava, Isabella. Has tenido que ser muy fuerte para andar viajando asi sola.”  

I laugh when she says this. My mother and I have had this conversation several times over the years, a reminder to quell the anxiety and imposter syndrome that live in my periphery. Brave is a strong word, I explain. She reminds me that road-tripping across the country or moving to Alaska alone for a summer would have never been an option for her. I remind her that she was the one who immigrated this country with little money and no functional understanding of the language. 

I didn’t understand the meaning of that conversation until I trudged exhausted to the summit of Mt. Ripinski. Looking out onto the jagged, snowy peaks in all directions, I realized that I had climbed higher than anyone before me and that I didn’t even have the words to communicate the awesome power of what I was seeing to my family back home.