C is for Colorado, my home from July 21, 2002 until sometime in the first week of June, ultimately just short of 11 years. At the time I was looking for a new life. I fell in love and moved here, having never even visited before. Shortly over a year later I was married, and remained so for the next 8½ years. Now I feel there’s not much life for me here, and I sojourn on to make a new one in a new place.
I never even thought of living here before that, but I’d now say it’s one of the best places for an impulsive relocation. We are the healthiest (least-obese) state in the union and the “purple mountain majesty” truly is stunning. The dry air means summers, even when hot, are not so uncomfortable. Winters are long, but they’re what draw people here; though I still have never gone skiing/snowboarding.
I never experienced a sinus infection until being exposed to that dry air. Also, as pretty as snow is to look at, it sucks when you still have to drive in it. Mountains and forests show nature’s beauty at its finest, but there are precious few substantial bodies of water. Denver is a beautiful city without a doubt, and as I wrote yesterday, I fell in love with its baseball team. Natives will tell you they can’t understand why anyone would ever want to live anywhere else. But it has never quite felt like home, and now it doesn’t seem to feel like fighting to keep me here.
Here’s to you, Colorado (I snapped this myself, from the top of Mesa Verde):
And here’s to you, Denver & Coors Field:
Squirrelly Writer 