Headed West.
As I traveled west into Colorado, my entire body relaxed and l felt a feeling I haven't felt in years. The feeling of warmth and contentment. The feeling of familiarity, knowing, and acceptance. The feeling of being home.
The music of choice for this part of the journey was the Violent Femmes, which was fitting since they were one of my favorites during my freshman year at Colorado State. The Femmes are just pure fun.
I listened to their first album non-stop with some buds that lived across the hall from my dorm room. Proudly, I can still recite every lyric by heart to each song on that LP.
Share a smoke, make a joke
Grasp and reach for leg of hope
Words to memorize, words hypnotize
Words make my mouth exercise
I only lived in Colorado for three years while I was in college, but there is still a place in my heart for the colorful state. I was a little forlorn that I wasn't stopping in Fort Collins, or Fort Fun as we called it, but I was on a tight schedule. I wanted to get to the next destination, Idaho Springs, before sunset so that the pups and I could go on a hike in the mountains. Idaho Springs is a cute little town off interstate 70 nestled in the Rocky Mountains and strategically placed between ski resorts. It always reminded me of a make-believe little town, reminiscent of a model train set village tucked into a faux mountain with plastic trees and turn of the century styled molded houses.
The mountains were still snowcapped and I thought about the many days I went spring skiing at Arapaho Basin with my college bestie, Mark, and our other friend Ian. Mark and Ian would ski in shorts because it would be a sunny, balmy 40 degree day. I was not so brave. At best, I would ski without my jacket.
Today was a much warmer day - it was 68 when I landed in Idaho Springs. The Airbnb that I booked was more adorable than the posting suggested. The ‘tiny’‘ house sat at the bottom of a mountain and the door faced a slanted hillside of Pine and Spuce trees. There were patches of melting snow and a path that lead up the slope. The rental looked like a shipping container turned cabin. It was long and narrow with cute, rustic embellishments.
We hiked up the mountain and down to Clear Creek, the river that runs parallel to interstate 70 along the front range. As the pups drank from the fresh mountain water source, I realized that I am very drawn to water and need to live close to a river or ocean. Watching the whitecaps splash over the rocks was mesmerizing. I felt a calm sense of belonging. A mountain girl I am not as I begin to feel claustrophobic surrounded by mountain ranges. But I could feel the universe healing my broken heart. The betrayal of a friendship and the sadness of a mistimed romance started to feel so small compared to the fullness of life that was swirling in my mind. I was headed west. Headed in the right direction. Headed home.
