January 2, 2017
It was summer of 2010 when my eyes opened, slowly focussing in on black storm clouds rolling in, threatening well needed rain. As the shadows were cast over Goldie & Kurt's ranch land and the elk and packs of coyotes who frequently grazed and played in our backyard, I slid down deeper under our down-filled comforter and rolled on top of my very own electric furnace, digging my nose into his neck and inhaling his still intoxicating scent that first drew me to him back in 1995. When he sleepily arose to step bare-foot on our radiant-heated, wide-planked recycled wood floors, I asked "Baddy" to switch on the gas fireplace in our room and I drifted back to sleep, feeling happy, safe, and very very lucky.
I didn't know that our stay in our contemporary farmhouse was to be short lived, I thought we were going to be there forever. As somebody who likes to look forward into the future I had NO premonition that we would end up where we are today, in a tear down lodge-like rental on Red Mountain, with the richest view in town. And where we were last night, popping champagne corks off our balcony, celebrating life, love, family, and friendship.
So here we are in our new phase of our lives. Four moves later. In a house with single-paned views of Aspen mountain, that lets all the freezing air in, and the smoke from our real working fireplace out. And I still feel very very lucky, but forever?What a foreign expression. Does anything last forever?