Boulder, Colorado 2014
We eventually turned north and headed toward Boulder, Colorado. My brother used to live in Boulder. I visited him several times, and spent a summer there. You should see the smile that accompanies “and spent a summer there.”
I wanted to go and see if I could find his house. My brother died a few years back. I have not yet forgiven him for his illness, nor his dying. I’ll get over it some day. Spending time in Boulder helped.
I drove through town, recognizing a building I’ve been dreaming about, one I suppose I saw when I lived there. I couldn’t find my brother’s house. I couldn’t find my brother, either, but at least there was proof he had lived. Pearl Street remains. So do the Flat Irons.
I knew then I wanted to spend more time in Boulder. More time seeking out places I had already seen. Getting acquainted with the foothills again.
That didn’t happen until this past summer, 2016. But it happened. And it will again. There is a place that feels like home, somewhere where my soul thrives. It is along the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains.