I’m sitting in a DJ booth, bopping my head along to Modern English.

It’s hard not to think about how easy it is to slot right back into Northern life. In most ways it feels like I never left, and other than the tragic absence of the Colonel and a lack of a Blizzard repository, the familiarity feels pretty darn good.

Deciding to head out of the Yukon wasn’t easy, but after a while, how can one not get itchy feet? There’s a whole wide world of experience out there and I was, for lack of a better term, “jonesing” for a taste of Outside.

If I had been paying better attention, I could have picked out the knowing smiles from friends I was saying goodbye to. I should have known that all those twinkling eyes were saying the same thing: “You’ll be back.”

This might sound a little counter-productive, but leaving the Yukon was the only way I could figure out why I needed to be here. This kind of backwards thinking is something, as an irrational human being, I happen to excel at.

Figuring out where to hang your hat permanently is a tougher decision than some might think. I truly feel that the saying “home is where the heart is” has a deeper meaning than just the butt crease on your couch.

We can all agree that every city has its own personality.

And I’m sure we can doubly agree that Whitehorse has its own pretty darned unique feel.

In trying to describe this town to people while I was “Out,” the best way I could explain it was that there were no “buffer” people in the North.

When you live in a big urban centre, you get the benefits of having an obvious anonymity. The people going through their hustle and bustle generally aren’t in any mood to start recognizing faces.

You can centre yourself in a mass of people who won’t give you the time of day, ’cause that’s how they like it. Everyone keeps to their own island of familiarity.

However, in a place like Whitehorse, you can’t help but run into the same people every day. And from a constant recognition, I believe, comes a stronger sense of community. You can tell every single person here has an interesting story. That people here are more than just nine-to-five work drones.

I think the “Colorful Five Per Cent” could be raised by quite a few more degrees, if you get my drift.

This isn’t to say that there’s only uninteresting people in bigger urban centres; it’s just that there’s way less biomass in our way here. The degrees of separation between Yukoners are pulled pretty darned taut, in most cases.

That’s why it’s so easy to slot right back into Northern life, no matter how long one has been away. It’s akin to a family member getting back from a long trip, and everyone wants to see what they might have brought back for them.

It feels wonderful to be back. Thanks, Yukon, for keeping my seat warm.