We
drove back to Minnesota for Thanksgiving.
On one hand it was nice to see the family and get some closure on
whether we made the right decision to move (we did), but on the other hand, it
was much too soon (absence didn’t make the heart grow fonder) and some really
stupid stuff happened that I’d like to forget as soon as possible.
I
drove the first eight hour leg to Omaha.
It was almost physically painful to see the mountains disappearing into
the rear view mirror. I still take the
dogs outside every morning and just stare at those mountains. Those peaks represent so many things to me:
freedom (personal freedom, not in a fuck yeah AMURCA way), independence,
choice, beauty, and a kind of delayed adulthood. We made a decision, stuck to it, followed
through, and it was the best decision of our lives. I was never happy in Minnesota for a variety
of reasons, not the least of which was the climate. During that first day of driving through the
barren prairie of eastern Colorado and the slightly more colorful western
Nebraska I could feel my heart sinking.
By
the next day my heart was in the pit of my stomach. I actually felt physically ill and
spiritually zapped. When I saw Buck Hill
right before the 35W/E split I thought I was going to be sick.
Spending
time with Husband’s family felt the same as it ever did and I felt better once
all of Lily’s cousins were together in one place squealing and playing and
running around. We stayed up until
midnight and played dominoes and joked and laughed like we had never left.
As
much as I would like to rant about other parts of the Minnesota trip I think I’ll
save that for a private journal or a conversation with Husband. Time heals all wounds and now that we’re back
in Colorado I have begun the process of letting go and reminding myself of the
simple truths that kept me from going crazy years ago.
Sunshine
and warm weather heal a lot of wounds too.
It’s going to be 64 degrees and mostly sunny in Denver today.
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