cache me if you can.

a song to set the scene // i remember well, by cody francis

Summer was officially over when my favorite seasonal antique store closed its doors for the year.

It’s a sneaky slither, that cold creeping feeling when autumn sidles in. The berries dry up, the leaves turn red, the air smells of decay.

Work halts, traffic becomes lighter, and the fishing slows.

The seasons don’t last very long here in Alaska.

Save for winter, whom reigns supreme.

One minute, you’re standing out in the sun, crying at your friend’s riverside wedding; and the next, you’re pulling your scarf out to keep warm against the autumn wind.

It’s gone, in the blink of an eye: that summer season, which we wait so tirelessly for all year round.

All I can think about are the hikes I didn’t do, the fish I didn’t catch, the evenings I didn’t spend walking outside with my gem.

Instead, regret. I feel regret. Guilt and anxiety creep in, like: did I do enough this summer? did I make it worthwhile?

But then there’s my drive home from work, that which takes me past an old Alaskan bear cache.

If you’re not from Alaska, and don’t know that of which I speak, a bear cache is a “… place designed to store food outdoors and prevent bears and other animals from accessing it.”

I’ve always thought it looked like a little treehouse cabin, placed up on stilts. It’s an Alaskan symbol, and always something I see when driving home. It’s an icon, especially this time of year when hunter and gatherer types stock up before the long winter.

But for me, I also saw it as safe, when I made it off the main roads and away from the ludicrous tourists.

I saw it as familiar, a part of my routine coming home for the day.

I saw its constant presence amidst the changes in season around it, and always marveled at how proudly it stood.

And it begged the question: why dwell on summer?

As I stopped one day and admired its stature amongst the fall colors, I realized that the more time I spend on regrets and feeling guilty about not taking advantage of a season that has long since passed, the less time I have here: in this moment, in this season, in front of this particular cache.

Summer season is short here, this we know. But so is fall.

So when those feelings of summer guilt and regret skate by?

I’ll let them know that I’m here, enjoying fall, in all of her colorful glory.

Cache me if you can.