Colorado. I said an impromptu yes to an impromptu invitation. A week with uncle Rick and his family. Morning flight to Atlanta, a tiny window of a connection that got me running through the airport crossing my fingers. The descent into the desert of Denver, all that sky and dryness and heat. A two-hour drive to Grand Lake. Into thinner air. Less than a mile away from the Rockies. Water and mountains and wildlife. Aspen, columbine, a moose in the woods. Bars with peanut shells on the floor. Cowboys on cell phones. They are building a house nearby, my uncle and aunt. It will be done in a couple of months. Now, it is a maze of rooms and wiring. I’ve never walked through a house half-way through completion. Without walls. Transparent. Grasshoppers flickering the landscape, their itinerant cackling. Everything feels like it’s moving so slowly. Glacial. The shopkeepers are cheerful and not aggressive. You can buy something or not, they don’t seem to mind. The restaurants serve giant glasses of water. My skin is soaking up the moisturizing cream. Main Street goes on for just two blocks, and the road dead-ends at the lake. A man fishing on the dock yesterday was lying on his side, watching the waves or the mountains or who knows what. He was patient and pleasant. He didn’t seem to mind the fish weren’t biting. The sun is strong, the clouds float by unhurried.


I’ve gained 5 pounds since I left San Francisco. It’s a good kind of weight. It feels like I’m fleshing out, settling into my body. It’s not that I’m doing anything differently. But something’s changed. In what I’d thought would be a groundless, limbo state, I’m finding myself calm, steady, relaxed. I’m becoming better at listening to myself. Not second-guessing my decisions. It’s remarkably freeing. Keeps me smack dab in the present tense. When I’m hungry, I eat. When I’m tired, I lie down. When I feel like talking, I open my mouth. When I don’t understand something, I ask for help. In these past few weeks, I feel like I’m finding my rhythm again. Recalibrating.


In this state of being, I am so much less fearful. Of failure or disappointment or uncertainty. I feel washed clean of guilt and helplessness and hesitation and all the comfortable discomforts – of inertia, of “just making do,” of accepting things that don’t serve my spirit. It’s like I’m tuning in to some frequency that’s been there all along, only it got covered up by other frequencies and I’d lost track of where I was, and who.


This feels like right living. Like the kind of life I want to keep opening up to.