As I was driving home last night the clouds hung low around the mountains, illuminated by city lights. It was mystical. And maybe it's because I'm saying goodbye to home (or probably I am a bit lonely) but two decades of memories began rushing back to me. Twenty-two years is a long time to call someplace home.
Those "mystical" winter clouds pulled me back to 16, and my first real boyfriend. No matter how cold, we would spend hours walking outside... talking about who knows what. I can still recall the coolness of the air on my breath. That's Colorado. A couple years later, with a close friend at my side, we sealed memories of that boyfriend in a bottle and tossed it in a lake. Give me a break. I was teenage girl.
The last few days have been filled with performances by Ella in my parent's backyard, but those aren't the first theatrical debuts on Westcliff Circle. Her mother could be anyone back there, and was.
Colorado gave me a lot of firsts. My first kiss, first car, first broken bone, first apartment, first job, first true love, first marriage (j/k Jared), first home, first (and second) daughter, and first move.
I've stolen moments in the past few days to say my own quiet goodbyes to those places of "first." Quiet, minus the 4-year-old in the back seat of my Jeep singing Hannah Montana, and the toddler trying to sing along. We've fed the ducks at the lake where that bottle lies hidden at the bottom. I have performed with Ella in the back yard. She always gets to be the princess. They aren't old enough to remember, but I showed my girls where mommy and daddy danced together when they got married. And last night we drove by our little home. Ella cried as she said goodbye. Mommy pretended not to.
So, as I say goodbye to Colorado, I am sad, but blessed to take all of those memories with me. And blessed to know I will make more in Texas. Anywhere my family is will be home.
Here's to the next 20 years. May they take their time, leave no wrinkles, sag no skin, and be blessed with the fortune of the years past.
