Welcome Home

There's nothing like the turning of a year to make you aware of how quickly and unceasingly time marches on. I have spent well over half this month on the road, between family ski vacations, trips back to CA for work, and whirlwind multi-city tours of wastewater treatment plants (sounds glamourous, I know). I took down my Christmas decorations only days ago, and am amazed that it is almost February.

Given my homesickness for California at the end of last year, spending a week back in the Bay area at the beginning of this month was a real treat and a huge blessing. It was great to see everyone again, to spend time with my old roommie and with my old small group. It was good to be back, but something was different this time. It wasn't home anymore. And I don't mean that in a sad, left out sort of way. It was simply a matter of fact.

As my plane was taxiing to the gate back in Denver at the end of the week, the flight attendant began to wish those continuing on a safe flight. And then she said, "and if Denver is home for you, Welcome Home." I sat there on that plane, looking out the window to the mountains in the distance, and I began to cry. But they weren't tears of sadness - they were tears of joy. Denver IS home. I was glad to be back and I felt a real sense of peace, for the first time in months.

This past fall I spent a lot of time looking over my shoulder, mourning the loss of the comfortable familiarity of California. I was still walking through the motions here in CO, but it wasn't my focus. My focus was on my grief. I think I've finally turned around, and life here suddenly seems alive and full of potential.