A couple years ago I saw a meme-like image similar to the one above. The text with it said:

Fairbanks – Living here doesn’t change you. It just makes you unfit to live anywhere else.

When I saw that the first time, I laughed and agreed. How many other places are there where you can call up the Tesoro gas station to get a report on the temperature sign kitty-corner from the polar bear ice sculpture where you want to sit and take a picture while wearing not much more than a sports bra and shorts in the middle of the night?

I’m thinking there aren’t many options.

These days when I think about that statement, it seems to need a modification. In my opinion, the line should be:

Fairbanks – Living here doesn’t change you. It just confuses you.

I just returned to Fairbanks after spending a little over a month in Anchorage, but it feels more like I’ve returned to a place than a life. When I stopped by briefly before backpacking in Denali in late August, I learned that the friends who are sweet enough to let me stay with them were in the middle of moving, which meant the only “home” I had left in town was no longer home.

That’s just one of the reasons Fairbanks no longer feels like home. As hard to believe as it seems, I did graduate from UAF over 3 years ago now. Many of my friends who are younger or just taking longer to graduate have even graduated by now. Whenever I make an appearance in town I realize my friends’ presence here is dwindling. Storing all of my things in a unit has left me homeless and dependent on friends who seem to slowly be leaving. With 1 brand new building and 2 building renovations, even my college campus is no longer what I once knew. When I go to the Pub, I can’t count on seeing a friend walk in and come over to chat.

I suppose this is all normal and to be expected in a college town, but I’m guessing I find it confusing because Fairbanks has been home since leaving Michigan 7 years ago. Keeping in mind that I never once moved before coming to Alaska, my genes are wondering why there seems to be nothing constant about this place any more.

Obviously the majority of all this confusion is a result of my own actions. I’m the one who doesn’t want a normal job, chooses to live out of storage, and won’t sit still for more than a few weeks. Because I’m nomadic, I haven’t established a new group of friends here in Fairbanks, which is why I feel a little lonely here.

As much as I’ve loved my years in Fairbanks, I find myself reflecting on all the good times rather than just living in the present. Although my memories make me smile, living in the past can’t be healthy. Unless I’m going to actually be in Fairbanks, I think my days here may be numbered. I would love to take the Iniakuk neighborhood, ACRC, Hot Licks, “my” puppies Laya and Yuri, and the old Wood Center office staff with me, but that’s just not possible.

Right now this departure idea is just in my head, but moving storage to Anchorage and maybe switching to some tiny apartment for my stints in town could end up in the future. After all, eliminating Fairbanks would make travel one step cheaper!

Now that I’ve unnecessarily shared those bittersweet thoughts, here’s the entertaining part of why my initial statement regarding Fairbanks should be changed to be about confusion. Not surprisingly, a lot of this is related to weather. This is a strange place.

1. On Tuesday I went for a final walk to enjoy fall weather in Anchorage because I knew I’d be in Fairbanks on Wednesday with winter weather. — I had pictures for comparison, but for some reason the files contain errors of some sort. Just picture a pleasant neighborhood with yellow-leaved trees and a mountain in the background for Anchorage. For Fairbanks imagine an almost frozen pond and mostly bare trees with roughly 5 inches of snow blanketing the ground.

2. While listening to the radio in Fairbanks as I walked down a snow-covered sidewalk, I heard an ad for end-of-season summer smoothies. Say what?! It’s still summer when there’s snow on the ground?

3. Walking on snow and ice-covered sidewalks becomes a natural skill. (Salt is useless in the cold up here.) Yes, everyone falls at least once a winter. Every time I come to town when it’s winter, I find myself walking much more carefully than everyone who lives through the winter. I’m out of practice!

4. Whenever I spend time in places with wind, I know it. There’s very little wind in Fairbanks, so I grew accustomed to calm air.

5. As much as I want to fully enjoy the pale northern lights I’ve seen in Alberta and outside of Anchorage, the displays over Smith Lake (complete with memories) can never be beaten. Mufasa’s face appeared in the sky one time! Thanks a lot, aurora.

6. During my years living in Fairbanks, I learned that it was virtually impossible to go to Fred Meyer for groceries without running into friends. The 2nd largest “city” in the state is a big town.

7. I know how to wash a day’s worth of dishes with less than 1/2 gallon of water. My 2 years spent living in a dry cabin were the best. Even without a car.

8. Carhartts and plaid are the fashion here, which is why maybe I actually do belong.

This isn’t a goodbye to Fairbanks but just an acknowledgement that our relationship hangs in the balance. Regardless of what happens, I wouldn’t be me without Fairbanks, for which I’ll forever be grateful.