It was around 3:30 or 4:00 AM as our ship slowly moved through the stillness of Glacier Bay, Alaska. The world was hushed, wrapped in soft blue and violet light. The waters were perfectly still, mirroring the towering, snow-capped mountains and low-hung mist like glass. It was the kind of beauty that feels sacred—unseen and unfelt in the rolling hills of Ohio where I live and work.
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