Imagine two Deloreans speeding side by side on a one-way road with you magically behind the wheel of both cars. Now imagine the road splits and each car heads off slightly in separate directions. Magically, on the road you are traveling to the left, space-time is at a standstill and you don’t age. You remain your youthful, unpredictable and naïve self. On the road to the right four years go by, you get older, hopefully a little wiser, and gain some new perspectives. There have been some highs and lows along the right road and you are changed. Now imagine these two roads begin to curve ever so slightly back towards each other until both Deloreans violently intersect back onto a reunited road and fuse together as one. This is what it feels like to move home after being away for so long: two versions of you trying to reconcile the miles in between. A month in and some of the novelty has worn off. It’s probably helped that I am up in Greeley, and while I’ve lived here previously for a season, it’s not somewhere I’ve spent an extensive amount of time. These aren’t my old stomping grounds. Traveling around Denver, Golden and Boulder in this first month back has been surreal, a constant game of déjà vu with the ghosts of my past lurking around every turn. I know these roads; I’ve driven them all a million times before. I know these paths and places stirring hazy feelings and kindling up long tucked away memories and moments both bad and good. At first it’s all seems the same, like time was on hold while I was gone, waiting for me to flip the light back on in Colorado with everything still sitting in it’s place. The trails, hikes, and hills are still here, but I’m not the same. I’m 20,000 miles traveled and four years removed from that moment when the road split and I drove away to the east. I’ve changed and it’s going to take a minute to realize how to metaphorically put back on the State that wears a little bit different than when I left. In the first week I’m nostalgic for the City of Big Shoulders. I want people to ask me about Her. I want to talk about the Second City that lifted me up to new and unknown heights. I miss it. Deep down though, I know what I miss most is routine, comfort and habit that provides the stable environment to move and grow. I’ll find it again here; I just have to be patient. Patience is what it always comes back to for me. In reality, the pause button is an illusion anyhow. The framework is the same, but the details are different. Some roads and interchanges are slightly modified, and new development is everywhere you turn. A huge new apartment complex cuts across my view of the foothills as I head west on 6th Avenue and enter the Golden town of my formative years. The light rail is running west and east and the state is bustling with people and promise. The years have been kind here in Colorado. My friends and family are thriving and carving out their niches in life just as I had been doing on the shores of Lake Michigan. Life’s gone on here too in the best of ways. Old smiling faces have welcomed me home, and some new bright faces have sparked my path forward. Chapter 29: Back to the Future, Back to School is in full effect and its time to settle in for the exciting ride and year ahead. I feel like I am cheating life a little bit: A big step backwards to launch forward to my destined future ahead. I’ve walked (or stumbled) this path once before on the manicured lawns and through the beautiful Tuscan Vernacular Revival that is the halls of learning on top of the hill in Boulder, Colorado. This time around I’m tucked out on the plains of Northern Colorado where the horns of real trains blast out into the night and peculiar scents may blow in on a soft wind. Farm living, with picturesque landscape views of the Purple Rockies. I drop my foot to the pedal of my car and blast down country roads to explore an untapped part of the Front Range. It’s revival of the soul and decompression from the Windy City in an unlikely cow town.
1 Comment
Kate Mcna
6/10/2016 11:33:50 pm
This is SO good. Love reading your writing. Very imaginative, very creative.
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Alexander McNaChronicles of my journey into the nursing profession. Archives
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