Going home.

I don't recognize myself. The person who I was for the latter half of my 20's is gone. I'm no longer that person. I don't even recognize who I was 12 months ago, as I was making my last desperate pleas to Sarah not to leave after 12 years.

So much has changed since then. It's like I've been poured out, shaken around, purified, stripped away, and left alone to find my way back from it all. I don't like the journey, but here I am. I don't feel the journey is done, but for the most part my inner turmoil is over. I've inflicted pain, been deceitful, been dishonest, and ignored my inner spirit's own callings…….only to hit rock bottom and begin climbing out in a different direction.

Things are different.

That is to say that things will never be the same.

Ever.

But here I am. I'm 30, have been living alone in this house for almost a year, and I've got a more galvanized attitude toward the goals I want to achieve in life thanks to the ordeal I've gone through this year.

And yet the fucked up thing is that there's one thing I can't shake.

Colorado.

In some ways, it's just a state, but in other ways, I felt alive living there.

I haven't felt that alive since.

I'm in love again, and that's an amazing experience……but I can't shake the amazing wonders I've seen. It almost seems like a dream, which makes it something of a nightmare because I can't wake up from it to realize it was only a dream. It's more like I'm stuck in the nightmare knowing that this amazingly beautiful and peaceful place exists, and that my soul calls to it, but I can't have it. I'm envious of those who do, knowing that some of them are taking it for granted. I hate them.

All I know is that, despite my entire person being morphed and changed over the last year, this is one thing that sticks with me. Until I can see the vast expanse of the rockies again, and live amongst it's wildness and seclusion, I fear that I'll always be somewhat of a shell of a person.

If you've been, you know what I'm talking about. If you've been, but don't know what I'm talking about, shame on you.

I plan to return with Laura in June of 2012. This will only be a vacation, but it'll also be a homecoming that will be hard for me to return from. I have so many sights I want to see while I'm there. I'm excited to see how Laura handle's the 14,264 foot peak of Mt. Evans, considering her athsma. I want to budget enough time to drive down through the San Luis Valley after dawn to watch the sun rise over the Sangre De Cristo Range. I want to hit up the Great Sand Dunes National Park while in the San Luis Valley, and add another park to my list……only now I'd be racking up parks with Laura as opposed to Sarah. Part of me wants to revisit parks I've been to before so that I can show Laura the parks for her first visit, and part of me wants to see new parks and continue to grow my National Parks experiences with the new love of my new life.

Even now, on a daily basis………actually on an hourly basis……. I close my eyes and see myself in the mountains. I can't imagine a different future for myself. I can't imagine a place more beautiful and pure. I can't imagine spending it with anyone other than Laura, and I can't imagine living out the rest of my days in Ohio. I just can't have it happen that way.

I listen to Paramore and am reminded of the Rockies. I listen to Slipknot and am reminded of the Rockies. I listen to Tori Amos and am reminded of the Rockies. I listen to Flyleaf and am reminded of the Rockies. I listen to 5 Finger Death Punch……….and after I get over how much I really don't like that band, I'm reminded of how often they were played on KBPI in Denver…..which reminds me of the Rockies (Damn you 5FDP).

I see myself driving down 285 by Aspen Park. I see myself in the King Soopers at Aspen Park when I'm grocery shopping in the Kroger in Marion Ohio. I look at Google Earth's 3D view of the mountains and retrace my old routes from the plains back up into the mountains.

I think it's safe to say that I'm obsessed. I prefer to say that I'm in love. I'm in love with a landscape that constantly made my heart sing by it's sheer beauty alone. The wildlife, the weather, the plants, the altitude…….it all became a part of me that I'll not be able to shake until I can return on a permanent basis.

I'll admit that I'm a little drunk while typing this, but all of this is true. I can't shake it. I'll return, there's no question. And when I do, I don't know how my soul will react. It'll be positive, but it could also be very emotional. I could buckle down and cry, who knows. But I do know that I want to return, and live there with Laura.

Laura's a key part of this. Would I move back if she weren't in my life? Sure. But would I be as excited? No. She fills my heart with the kind of passion that makes a place like that seem that much more important. I really want to share the entire planet with her. I want to spend the rest of my days with her. I can't imagine anyone else in the picture.

But this post isn't about Laura. It's about how I can still see myself on Richmond Hill Road, south of 285, seeing the mountains in the distance from a clearing as I face south, and feeling like I've stumbled into some magical place that simply can't be real. It's about coming up I-70 WB by the Buffalo Herd Overlook west of Denver and being in complete awe in every way every single time I came over that ridge, stunned by the view of the Continental Divide. It's about going home.