In Alaska, when my neighbors grieve, this is what I bring to their doorstep

Notes on: meal train comfort food, the loss of a friend, an excellent breakfast burrito, Italian bread soup, homemade falafel, hummus tricks, Pati Jinich in Alaska

Alaska never lets you forget how dangerous it is for long. Tuesday morning rolled out with its usual chaos, finding a kid’s preferred pair of pants at the bottom of a laundry basket, spreading peanut butter on bread, helping my mom, who lives next door, make coffee and get her Alexa going with the news. On the way out the door, Mom handed me an old jam jar filled with fresh local honey she’d gotten from a friend. Fresh honey always makes me feel rich. Walking home in the rain, I noticed that the birch leaves were fanning out right on time.

Old jam jar of fresh honey, perhaps more valuable than my 401K. (Julia O’Malley)

When I got in, I saw I’d missed a call. A reporter friend working on a story about a plane going down. A friend and colleague, Alaska artist Jenny Irene Miller, was feared lost in that crash, she said. And then, minutes later, it was confirmed. I read the name “Jenny Irene Miller” several times before an ill feeling came over me. Jenny had been on a flight from Homer to N…