Colorado Burning

That summer, Colorado burned. Somehow that is my most poignant memory  - crimson skies, falling ash, endless helicopters, phantom whiffs of smoke first thing in the morning. Perhaps it was symbolic, but I couldn't have known it at the time. The one summer Colorado was mine to love, it burned. 2020 was the worst fire season in Colorado's history. It was the worst fire season of my life.

Everything else burned too. My marriage, my life as I knew it, my dreams of adventure in a place I had fallen absolutely in love with. Because, it turns out, when things are burning, you need help to stop the damage and sometimes it's too remote, it's too far gone, it's already been destroyed completely .

I have rebuilt over the years. The burn scars remain, but new life continues to emerge. We live a beautiful life, a life I wouldn't give back. But we could have done without that single fire season and maybe we'd all be a little less hurt.

When I dig down, stop and listen, there are so many more memories. So many moments and possibilities to mourn. I miss the quiet, cold mornings, building the wood burning stove fire for the day. I miss the stars and the silence. I miss the space. I miss the hope. I miss what might have been but just wasn't. 

I miss when Colorado was mine. I miss when my life was still mine and not someone else's. I miss not being mad at the unfairness of it all.