I remember stories recounted from my great grandfather of the ‘aurora borealis’ (yes, always a tendency to use the fancy Latin names in our household). As a child it sounded intriguing, entrancing and altogether magical.
In my three months in the arctic, I was lucky enough to see the aurora four times. One night in particular there was a tremendous show –green lines dancing and prancing almost like horses or mystical acrobats across the night sky. We stood in the snow for hours, fascinated. Unwilling to give in to the cold and go inside.
Awed, I kept thinking back to those stories from my great grandfather, and how what had seemed so exaggerated now seemed to barely describe such an event.
When it came to My Way Home, any story in the arctic circle had to include the aurora borealis. I want the next generation of kids to know about it, to be fascinated with it – and maybe, one day, to see it themselves.