Today is the 3-year anniversary of something I’d rather forget. It’s been 3 years since I left Colorado. Some of my long-time readers might recall a post
from August of 2002
where I said it was the 1-year anniversary of my departure from Colorado, and wonder what the heck I’m talking about now.
In August of 2001, I was hired by a company in Fort Worth, Texas. Our house in Colorado hadn’t sold, and we had a 1 bedroom apartment in Fort Worth available to use practically free of charge for a couple of months. So the plan was for my wife and 13 month-old son to stay in Colorado until the house sold, or as long as made sense. To my wife, about two weeks made sense. On September 5th, 2001
, my dad and I flew up to Denver to pack the house and move everything to storage in Fort Worth, while my wife and son joined me in the tiny 1 bedroom apartment.
On September 8, 2001, I was busy driving a big ass moving truck through southern Colorado, across northeastern New Mexico, and down into the Texas panhandle. I’ve not been back to Colorado since.
Before we moved to Colorado, I went practically every year since I was 6 or 7…sometimes twice a year (to ski, snowboard, and camp). Now, here we are three years later, and I am dying to get back, if just for a visit…just a few days. Work keeps getting in the way, or perhaps I keep letting it get in the way. Maybe it is time to rearrange my priorities and take a little break. I’ve got old friends to catch up with, and maybe even a new one or two to meet in person for the first time.