1. Goodbye to My Home, My Sun... My Tan

I waded into the shallow pool; my last swim before I was shipped off to the cold, rainy Indian village of Tyonek against my will.

I was going to live with my grandparents in the cold state of Alaska. It wasn't the move I was dreading, I'd been shipped around more than an Army kid.

Mom and I had lived in Portland till I was nine, and I had spent every summer at the place I was being exiled to now, the Tyonek Village on Revillagigedo Island on the Alaska panhandle, only accessible by air.

My mom is a singer, and she'd been hired at countless clubs and hotels in the past eight years. She had her dream job, so that meant packing up and moving out at every offer, no matter how far away. We'd lived in 5 different states before Mom got a job at a little café in southern California.

It had been hard to get used to the dry, blazing heat, but I'd grown to love it. We had a nice apartment with a pool, and I loved my school. It was mostly Mexicans, but I didn't care, I blended in with my dark hair and skin.

We'd been in the dry, beautiful state for three years, the longest I'd ever stayed anywhere, apart from Portland. And now, yet again, I was being cruelly torn away from my friends, and what I had grown to consider home.

Mom and Dad had met in college and eloped. A month later Mom found out that she was pregnant and "Dad" took off, never to be heard from again. I'd never met him.

I dove under, and came up a few seconds later. My waist length hair flowed out gracefully behind me. I jumped out of the cool water and laid on my towel, face up, letting the sun's bright rays dry my wet body. I would miss this, the relaxing feeling of my stress evaporating with the water off my skin.

A few minutes later I gathered my things together and took off through the parking lot to our building on the far west side of the property. I walked into the small apartment, weaving through the piles of packing boxes that filled the tiny living room, and went straight to the bathroom to shower.

I stepped out of the shower and stared at myself in the small mirror. My dad was Tebughna Native American and my mom Irish. I had my dad's dark skin and hair, but my mom's green eyes and light freckles; an unattractive combination in my opinion. I would on no scale consider myself pretty, but I supposed things could be worse.

I dressed quickly and took one last look at my room. It was tiny, but I would miss it. With a sigh, I grabbed my bag and shut the door. Mom gave me an apologetic look as I plodded into the living room. I was unhappy, that I couldn't hide, but I was trying to make the situation as easy for her as possible. I wasn't moping yet, that would kick in at Gram's.

We stepped out into the hot, dry heat. I turned my face up to the morning sun for the last time. I sighed and climbed into the passenger's side of the old pickup. Neither of us said anything on the way to the airport. My flight left today, nonstop to a small private airport in Ketchikan some 45 miles from Tyonek. Gramps was coming to pick me up and I was not looking forward to the awkward hour long car ride.

It was not till we neared the exit for the airport that Mom started making sure I had everything I would need for the next ten months. She stopped at the drop off zone and unloaded my one duffle bag from the truck bed. She gave me one long hug before telling me that she loved me and sending me off to check in. I had an hour before my flight left.

I walked up to the tall counter and checked my bag, then made my way through security and to my gate. I settled into one of the hard, uncomfortable seats, too depressed to eat or look for a magazine to read on the plane.

I had tried not to act too upset around Mom, I really didn't want to hurt her feelings; she was going after what she wanted, and I was proud of her for that.

I sat alone, wondering what the coming months would be like. I was sure it would take me a while to get used to the weather. I wasn't thrilled about the sunless sky. If there was anything I remembered about Tyonek from my childhood memories, it was that the sun made an appearance about three times a month, if even that. I felt even more depressed just thinking about it.

I continued to fill my head with depressing thoughts till my flight was announced. I boarded the plane, put my bag under the seat in front of me, and laid my head back, closing my eyes; praying that I would survive the next dismal months of rain and clouds.

I jolted awake as the plane hit the pavement. I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had slept the whole flight. I started gathering my things together, making sure I had my one carry-on with me, ready to quickly exit the almost empty plane. I wasn't surprised by the lack of people traveling; who would want to come to an area as oppressive as southeastern Alaska?

I made my way to baggage claim and waited patiently for my oversized duffle. I didn't have to wait long. I snatched it off the small conveyer belt and wondered over towards the door. I thought about waiting outside, but a quick investigation revealed that it was drizzling, so migrated over to a lonely bench near the glass doors.

The minutes passed till they piled up into a half hour. I rolled my tongue across my teeth, a nervous habit. Where could they be? They knew I was coming, they kept telling Mom how excited they were to be able to see me again.

I hadn't seen my grandparents since I was nine, I; however, was not as ecstatic as they were. I loved then and all, but they hadn't been too involved in my life since I was little. The only contact we had with them was when they sent a check on my birthday and Christmas, with a card inviting me to come and stay with them for a while.

Suddenly, a gust of arctic air burst through the doors, followed by a calm, unruffled Gramps.

Gramps has always been quiet, keeping to himself; I was kind of like him in that way. When I was little, I used to be scared of his serious attitude.

Gramps was a short, round old man, about three inches taller than me, with long black and grey hair that he kept in a braid a little past his shoulders. He was wearing a big, cream colored zip-up sweater, with a red flannel shirt underneath, old jeans, and… moccasins.

I laughed quietly to myself.

He turned to his left, and smiled an aged, crooked smile when he saw me.

"Leah!" he called, motioning for me to come over to him. I was pleased to find that he sounded genuinely happy to see me. I stood up, and walked slowly towards him.

When I reached him, he took my duffle and reached over to give me an awkward hug.

"Leah Catori Call," he said, using my full name and shaking his head in disbelief, "My, you've grown!" he commented.

I smiled and nodded, "Yeah, Gramps, it's been a long time."

He gave me another awkward hug and then led the way outside. I was surprised when he led me over to an old Chevy Pickup, idling in the parking lot.

"Uh, Gramps… what happened to the Trooper?" I asked, confused.

For as long as I could remember Gramps had driven an old, maroon colored '90 Isuzu Trooper. I loved that car, I used to get home at the end of every summer and tell Mom that was the car I wanted when I grew up.

"Oh, well, she kinda wheezed her last breath a few years back, and I haven't been able to get her fixed yet," Gramps explained.

Great I thought to myself, No car.

As we neared the truck, I saw a figure move in the front seat.

"Who's driving?" I wondered aloud.

"Oh, that's Joe Earley," he explained, "He offered to drive us. His grandkids are about your age." he added.

He threw my duffle in the covered truck bed and climbed into the cab. I shook the water out of my hair as Gramps officially introduced me to Joe. I smiled politely and then sat back. It was warm inside the truck, so I slipped off my rain jacket and laid it next to me on the seat.

I had been mentally preparing myself for this car ride for weeks, now with Gramps' friend here, all I had to do was relax. Maybe this wouldn't be so weird after all. I tried to listen to their conversation, but I couldn't follow along with all the fishing terms, so I quickly gave up.

Instead, I gazed out the window at the dark green trees racing by. I thought about the heat I was leaving behind, and Mom. How was she going to survive alone? But there was nothing I could do. I was stuck here for the next ten months, it would be better to not worry about things that were out of my hands.

Suddenly, we burst out of the trees, and the road stopped. Instead, we were driving on rocky ground, with the misty beach in front of us, only about fifteen yards away. There was no denying the beauty of the fog over the dark water.

It was overcast, and windy, but the rain had stopped. The truck drifted to the left, and pulled up in front of a lonely little green house. I jumped awkwardly out onto the wet ground and grabbed my duffle out of the back. Gramps talked with Joe through the window as the truck idled.

I stood by the back of the truck for a moment, not sure what to do or where to go, before walking towards the old, weathered door. I got to it, and stood there, watching Gramps, wondering if I should just walk in or wait for him.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the white lace curtain in the window to my left flutter. A second later the door opened and Gram's arms were wrapped around me. This hug was not as awkward as the one I had shared with Gramps.

I had always gotten along with Gram. We understood each other.

Gram was, like Gramps, quiet and shy. She was a short little old woman, with dark grey hair weaved into a thick braid down to her backside. She had a wide nose, yet it fit her face perfectly. Everything about her was petite. She was the type of person that you couldn't help but love instantly.

"Leah! My you've grown." She exclaimed as she took a step back to examine me.

I chuckled. "So I've heard."

She laughed under her breath as she reached for my carry-on, a big slouchy purse. She glanced over to Gramps who was engrossed in his conversation with Joe, and led me into the one story two-bedroom house. The small house was exactly as I had remembered it.

To the right was the small, cramped, yet cozy living room. A long window stretched exactly halfway across the wall of the front of the house. The small TV was positioned at an angle in the left corner by the window, two antennas poking out the top.

To the left of the TV was the fireplace. In front of the fireplace at another angle was one armchair, a small, old couch facing the TV sat next to it, and then another armchair was tucked neatly into the corner to my right. A short bookshelf stretched across the wall under the window, completing the circle. Dead center of all this was the dark, wooden coffee table that Gramps had made himself.

Just behind the couch was an old antique desk that was piled with papers, opposite the desk was the small hallway that contained the doors to the two small bedrooms on the right, and the one bathroom and a small closet that held the washer and dryer on the left. The other end of the hallway opened into the "dining room".

The "dining room" was really a little kitchen nook that contained an old, square, oak table. Two sides of the table were a booth and two mis-matched chairs sat on the other sides. A window opened above one of the sides of the booth with the back door next to it.

The table was separated from the kitchen by a small counter with a row of cabinets hanging overhead. On the front wall of the house sat the sink and a little counter space located next to the fridge.

A small wall jetted out separating the kitchen from the tiny "entry way" that passed through back into the living room. Basically the house was a ring; you could walk through it in twenty seconds, tops.

Gram led me through the living room and down the hall to the room that was closest to the kitchen. It had one small window on the back wall of the house; the bed was against the wall to the right of the door, with a small table just barely fitting between it and the door. An old chest of drawers stood to the left, empty, and a beautiful antique desk sat under the window.

It was simple, peaceful. The walls were a beautiful chocolate brown, exactly as I had remembered it. The same lace curtains that were in the living room framed my small window that looked out into the woods.

I set my duffle on the bed, and Gram did the same with my purse.

"Well, this is it. Are you hungry, or tired? I was going to start lunch, but you can sleep if you want." Gram offered.

I was tired, but I was hungry too, so I opted for the food.

I followed Gram out my door to the small kitchen. I offered to help but she just shook her head and continued with her work. Instead, I leaned against the counter and asked her about my new home.

She told me a little bit about the where I would go to school, and the town. There was one convenience store, a gas station, a few tackle shops owned by several of Gramps' friends, a pizza shop, a diner, and a few more businesses.

We talked about the neighbors, or lack thereof, and church. Then Gram brought up the culture class held at my high school after school. I would get extra credit, and learn more about the Tebughna culture. Just the thought of have to do more school than necessary was disgusting, but I feigned interest so as not to hurt her feelings.

I had never been ashamed of my heritage, but I had never really been proud, or in touch with it either. Mom's grandparents came from Ireland, but she did nothing to push her culture on me, and I knew absolutely nothing about my dad's side of the family, and honestly, I didn't care. It was something I wouldn't consider especially interesting.

We talked for the next forty-five minutes or so, pausing only when Gramps came in and informed us that he would be in the family room. I heard the TV click on, and the static as he tried to arrange the antennas.

I pulled out the old, cracked pewter plates and set the table, chatting politely with Gram when necessary. Five minutes later, Gram called Gramps into the kitchen. We all three sat down at the small table, me in the booth, with Gram and Gramps in the two mis-matched chairs.

We ate in silence. After I had finished I stood up and gathered the plates and began to stack them. Gram tried to protest, but I insisted. I carried the pile over to the sink and began to wash. Gram thanked me and then continued to bustle about the house, making sure everything was in order.

Gramps got up and announced that he had a few errands to run. He kissed Gram, gave me an awkward smile, and then made his way to the door.

I thought while I washed. I missed Mom. I wondered what she was doing at the moment, when would be the next time I saw the sun I loved so much, and what kind of people I would meet here.

I finished the dishes faster than I thought I would, and then decided I would dry them. I finished everything, and made my way to my small room.

Everything was tiny in this house, I thought to myself.

I turned my attention to the bag on my bed. I unzipped it and dug for my towel and bag of toiletries. I gathered them in my arms and took the two necessary steps to the bathroom.

I went first to the small closet located beside the door in the corner, but a quick glance was all I needed to see that there was no room for the contents of my makeup bag. I started the water and pulled the things I would need out of the small bag.

The hot water felt wonderful over my tense muscles; I was so sore from sitting all day. I took a little more time than necessary, not wanting to step out onto the cold tile, but I willed myself to turn off the water and start unpacking.

I wrapped my towel around me and grabbed my bag. I hopped across the hall into my cold room and shrugged into my sweatpants and a t-shirt. I combed out my long hair and left it to dry. I placed my bag of toiletries on the nightstand by the door, easy to reach I thought to myself.

I stared at my big duffle, took a deep breath, and began to unpack. I pulled all my clothes out onto the bed and began to fold and place them in the big pine drawers. I glanced at the small battery operated alarm clock I had just unpacked, three o'clock. I was so tired; I wished time would speed up.

When I was about halfway through the pile on my bed I pulled the padded sleeve that contained my elderly laptop out of the bottom of my bag. I set it on the desk, not wanting to turn it on. It was a relic, and I knew it would take several minutes to turn on, and even longer to connect to the internet.

I turned my attention back to the now small pile of clothes. I worked at a steady pace, thinking as I went. I wondered about my friends and Mom, and what they were doing at the moment. As I continued thinking, I made myself more and more depressed. I kept up the pace until I had a full-on pity party. I quickly lost track of time, wrapped in my own misery.