I’m struggling to remind myself why I left Colorado.
As the plane was landing at Newark, my heart was heavy. I had just spent 8 days in a place where the air is clean, the views are breathtaking and the people are friendly. It’s true – not everyone is driven and focused on making themselves into something big and important. They don’t seem nearly as concerned with being a success in the eyes of the world – they’re much more concerned with being a good friend, a good family member.
You drive up to a toll plaza along E-470, and the attendant seems to be sincerely happy to be there, a happiness they seem intent on passing on to the drivers on their morning commute. No matter what restaurant or what store you walk into, the staff actually go out of their way to help you out. No stares, glances or body language to suggest that you aren’t rich or white or well-connected enough to be there. Even in the Broadmoor, one of the finest hotels in the country, they warmly greet you as you walk in. They know you’re probably not staying there, and that you just want to see the beauty that everyone talks about. It doesn’t matter – based on the manner in which they treat you, one would think you were a regular.
Michelle never really understood when I said that the buildings in Manhattan weren’t that impressive. After eight days spent driving through, skiing down and gaping at 14,000 foot mountain after 14,000 foot mountain, she gets it. The manmade glory that Manhattan tries to construct for itself is absolutely dwarfed by the natural glory of this country that far too few have taken the time to see.
Perhaps most noticable was the lack of stress we both felt. After a year spent working days, nights, weekends, trying to catch up, stay caught up, trying to keep everything from spinning out of control, the release we felt during the eight days was like water in the desert. My creativity, my energy, my health were noticably depleted before I left, and the recharge couldn’t have come at a better time.
But now I’m back. The mountains, the rivers, the buffalo are gone. The genuine smiles, the light laughter and the strangers who feel like old friends are gone. Replaced with cold concrete and steel. Replaced with the sound of horns and subways. Replaced with $10 beer and $20 burgers.
Life replaced by…something else.
