Down from the Mountain Musings

It ended so suddenly. But I didn’t know how sad I’d feel. Our last week in the inner-mountains of Colorado turned into two days when we had to get our car battery jumped and then decided to skedaddle across the state to avoid potential alternator trouble. After two big days of driving and a flurry of (in the car) activity we drove down the mountains and into Colorado Springs. The air thickened, the traffic increased, the sky grew overcast with clouds we hadn’t seen since the first day of Colorado when it snowed. All the brilliant fall leaves had left the trees bare, I had run out of Carmex, and I saw my first Stellers Jay since Oregon – perhaps flying south for the winter?

And I. felt. sad. I also felt a little like a foreigner — too sensitive and overcome by the intensity of this big highway, the intensity of “normal life,” the intensity of a faster pace. I was aware that my habits – from showers to cooking to time spent – were no longer the norm. No longer understood. No longer relevant. Heck, the fact that I was even processing my life relative to others was new.

After a few days in Colorado Springs, our journey would keep us moving east, leaving these mountains behind us – the rivers, the days spent 100% outside, the nature to explore. I needed a minute to mourn and miss the West that the last 2.5 months had allowed us to explore. And now I need a minute to process how we bring ourselves into the next phases of this journey.

Phase Two: you’ve been a dream.

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