Contributed by Dylan Manderlink

It’s going to be really dark there, they said.

How will you deal with the late mornings and early nights in Alaska, they asked.

Do you think the dark will affect you, they prodded.

I have no idea. I’ve never experienced anything

of the like, so how am I supposed to know.

Now, I sit at my kitchen table.

The window beside me is black.

I see my reflection and it’s too early in the evening for that sensation, I think.

How does one accept that it’s night, when it’s not night.

My window is an opening to an experience I’ve never had.

Existing in the dark when it shouldn’t be dark.

When I’m not used to it being dark, rather.

My window reflects my naiveté and skeptical acceptance of what has come.

All in the backdrop of the night that’s not the night.

When will I see the bright.