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.