There are several words I would use to describe my life in Colorado: boring, mundane, in the middle of nowhere. These are the words that usually slip off my tongue when I talk about home. But, with all my qualms with rural Colorado, I have things I have since grown to love. The quiet. The mountains. Nature. Snow.
On warm summer evenings I would put a leash on my dog and take a walk down our long winding road. I’d pause every few feet as the shadows from the trees and the mountains cast picture-perfect lighting over our valley. Most days we could walk down the middle of the road without worrying about a car coming to run us over. We would walk to the creek with the frogs croaking and the deer grazing. Ancient farm houses with horses and weathered red barns.
I use to love and watch the grass move as the wind blew through the valley. They swayed and swished like the ocean. It would grow so high in the summer that you could practically get lost in it.
The dry heat of Colorado summers made them bearable. I’d wander behind our house, one of the few areas densely populated by tall bushes and trees. I’d curl up with a book in the hammock or a chair and completely escape from the world. The trees hid me and took me to a different time and place.
For all the things I hated about living in Colorado, as I move closer and closer to no longer ever living there I can’t help but stop and think about how beautiful it is.