October 29th

The sun is bright today, although it is beginning it's waning into that wan winter light. 

The october sky is beginning to fade, to be replaced by a much softer sort of blue.

     My dog and I lay stretched out in the sun of the porch of our local laundromat, biding our time until my two loads of laundry are dry. The sun seeps into the splintery wood and makes it warm underneath my thighs. 

The road in front of the gravel parking lot has the occasional car, passing up and down the cracked and gritty pavement, past leaves that are turning from yellow to brown and falling with peace to the dark of the earth. I hear the tick and wine of a Subaru engine and I fight my urge to look up. I lose. 

     Everything here feels so familiar and known, so small town, like sitting in the diner this morning with my mom, knowing most of the patrons and spending 10 minutes talking with the old cowboy type and his wife, my mom knows from her border collie and horse training days, sipping coffee swapping tales and sharing a worn wooden booth. I like the feeling of being loved by a community of close knit souls.

I suppose home feels especially familiar after spending 5 days in the bustle and light and activity of Denver.  I found it exhilarating, especially upon entry, and I was delighted to find I knew my way, sort of, through those city streets and found myself recognizing places and roads and that the fear that used to clutch at me at driving in the city was relaxed and it made me happy to make my way back home to Sasha's street side apartment again.  I loved feeling connected to people again. And to dancing. and to the bigness and possibility that is readily available in the city. 

I inhale the clean of the mountain air and sigh just a little.

An older woman pedals slowly up the slight incline, purple socks showing between thick sandal straps. Her gray hair tied back smoothly with a blue handkerchief. 

Smoke curls in the air, white-blue against the periwinkle of the sky. 

My dog shifts and lifts up her head to look at me, checking in before she lays back down with a sigh.

There are no dead ends. Only one road, which we navigate, hopefully with our headlights on and our eyes open. I have to remember this.

Last night I chased the glow and pull of many pink sunsets over the rugged snowcapped mountain peaks, one bare foot on the accelerator and a round moon glowing silver in my rear view mirror. 

I don't know what I am doing for the winter, I don't know where I will be in the spring; but I am trying to instead of be so consumed with the finding out, to try and take delight and pleasure, and gratitude in what I have now.

I am so grateful for lunch with friends. For sisters. For text messages. For my dog. My mom. My friends. For the opportunity to grow. For pep talks from beautiful russian women. For my car. For the simplicity that enwraps my life. For the wedding dress currently hanging in my over stuffed cabin. For tea. For long hugs from my dad. For feeling valued; important. For love. For grief. For breaking open and growing from the depths within. For thrift store finds. For having money. For smiles shared with strangers, that make me not feel so alone. For new music. For photographs and for faith.  

My life may may not be clean and laid out; but I do have this. And it is perfect.

Denver in the twilight