The sky was oddly overcast when we landed in Denver Colorado last week. We collected our belongings, took the tram from the terminal, packed up our rental car and drove into the city; unceremoniously leaving the open planes of the east behind.
That first day may not have unfolded the way we would have liked... but it all worked out in the end (as days ending with Nachos and good friends often do).
The altitude gets me every time. No matter how I prepare for the thin air, it sneaks up, a silent foe.
There was work to be done on this trip. Meetings, plans to be made.
Adventures into the mountains. Traveling through towns so small, so desolate, so quiet...the tiny wooden homes seemed to lean against one another for support, keeping each other company against the harsh mountain climate. The night air was filled with music as we swayed under the stars. The smell of bonfire and whiskey, bitters and pine. The melodic sounds of the bar rang out gently, harmonizing with the raspy tones of a wanderers song.
There was a day spent basking in the sweet Colorado sun, by a pool trapped in time. It was if The Sandlot had been moved to a small town nestled in the mountains. The spring fed water kept us cool for hours, until we stumbled, sun drunk, back to our cars. It always surprises me how tired you feel after a day in the sun; it takes me back to summers as a kid, falling asleep in the early evening twilight while the fireflies came out to play.
More meetings, more adventures.
A night spent with friends, laughing, toasting, building relationships over moments of shared joy.
Work, play, in the best of times who can tell where one starts and the other ends.
Family and friendship, one and the same.
Denver, you are good.
Until we meet again.