Moving to Alaska in the summer made time seem unreal. I’d look outside and have no idea of the hour. The sun was always shining, and everyone in town took advantage. Festivals, fishing, open mic music, and a lot more. There was so much to do, and so much time to do it.
But in the last few weeks, I’ve started to notice time again.
It’s actually dark when I go to bed now, and the weather report tells me we’re losing six minutes of light everyday. The tundra that was so green is showing flecks of yellow and red. And the blueberries I had to tug off their stems two weeks ago are suddenly so ripe that they squish and stain my hands the instant I touch them.
It’s still August, but there are signs of fall everywhere. Kids are going back to school, and Alaska’s fire season has all but ended as the weather cools. There’s talk of the salmon run winding down, and no one can miss the turnover happening around town.
As the season changes, so do many of the people. We’ve just said goodbye to last year’s volunteers — as well as many of the great people they had introduced us to. Mitch, Maddie, Emily and I joke that it’s our time now.
We’re a few months into our volunteer year, and the training wheels are coming off. I can’t bounce story ideas with Jenn anymore or text Francesca with technical questions during my deejay shift. I can’t just tag along with Kristin, Courtney, and Caitlin if I don’t have weekend plans of my own.
And that creeping sense of responsibility — coupled with the steadily growing darkness — has me keeping track of time with excitement and anxiety. Because I don’t want to waste any time.
I want to get out and make the most of the fleeting fall season. I’d like to take an evening class, volunteer, maybe meet some new people in my own right.
And most of all, I want to be better in my job as a news reporter. The volunteers emeritus taught us well, and I’m looking forward to continuing their excellent example as best as I can. But I feel frustrated when I can’t produce my work as well or as quickly as they did just yet. It bothers me to no end when I don’t have a new story to pitch or when I fumble over the same words time and time again. I hate the idea that our listeners have to wait for me to get up to speed.
But I’m reminding myself that it really is our time now — and that’s a good thing. Summer was so much fun, and training was an amazing experience. But it’s time to find my own footing now. I don’t have to replace the former volunteers or run ragged around Nome trying to make an immediate mark.
I just have to embrace my role at the station and work on finding my role in this community. After all, it’s time.
