Fort Collins

More than eleven years ago our family made the difficult decision to move from Colorado back to the California coast, where I was born and raised. We left a thriving community, good friends, a lovely little church, and a home we had designed and built ourselves.

So when we mapped this long road trip to Nebraska, we worked hard to find a way to stop for a night and see old friends.

Timbys, Bleems, Cormos’s, Boyds, Millers, Hardys, Olvers, Humphreys, Rickerts, Kirbys, and many more.

Fort Collins wasn’t the first place my husband and I lived. Prior to our time in the Rockies, we lived in Northern California–and maybe we were just young, but we lived a little life there. We didn’t reach into the community. We didn’t seek to make lasting friends. We lived a small, I’d say, selfish life…

We vowed, when we moved from that place, that we would make different choices in Colorado. A good and needed promise to make.

So, fast forward many years. How to see lots of beloveds when we only had a few open hours before packing back into the Chevy Traverse?

We invited them all to meet us downtown at one of our old haunts. Over ice cream, taking up half the tables, we chatted, hugged, introduced and caught up. It wasn’t near the amount of time needed, but it was a quick connection that means heaps to me. Even though I’m a writer-type, one who needs time alone to think and decompress, I understand more and more the real value in real people–real people who love you. And the real value in loving them back.

So, Fort Collins was just a quick blip on this long journey, but a memorable one.

I’m sure you have people and places like this in your own lives and I entreat you to treasure them!

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