This time last week, I sat in my childhood bedroom. Clothes and other goods ready to be packed, strewn across the floor and over the bed. But instead of packing in any reasonable manner, I spent the evening reflecting.
My love for Boulder is endless, a beautiful small town along the front range of the Rocky Mountains. Skiing is almost second-nature, having grown up spending weekends on the slopes only an hour or so away. Picturesque landscapes and exploration of the outdoors fill my memories. I cannot imagine growing up anyplace else. And yet, this place now feels small.
Returning allows me to see not just family, but those friends I’ve made over the years—whether from growing up here, to university, to my first few years after school. We’re all growing up, so quickly, so fast. We’ve found new adventures, new friends. But we have a common thread, those shared experiences which make us who we are today.
A lot has changed since I last called this place my home. Over the past few years, I’ve grown and learned and explored and made a new place for myself in PDX. But I always cherish those opportunities to visit Colorado. I finished packing past midnight, occasionally looking out into the moonlit landscape. Remembering, and celebrating, those moments which led me here.