Remembering this day years passed
I posted this elsewhere, and it was suggested I cross post here. I try to keep my public and private lives, especially this side, separate. Well, with as few people who still read here, hopefully that will maintain.
This should be dated Monday, btw. It's meant as of that date, relatively.
Three years ago I was in Victor with John and Diane. We went to Cripple Creek and ate chocolate turtles, meandered through the shops, and I bought my nephew a gift. I think he still has that Cripple Creek fleece. I remember the streets being torn up in downtown Cripple Creek, the amusement as John played video poker while Diane hit the slots. There was the German bakery we where we ate breakfast in Victor, and the scenic drive through the golden aspens that ended up back in Cripple Creek. We never did get to town while "The Creek" restaurant was open. John and I ate there years ago. He had tomato bisque with a BLT while I had brick oven pizza with jalapenos. He didn't believe me when I told him how hot they were. That was amusing, but probably only to me. It's a great place to eat, but it needs to be open more.
I think we were staying at the old brothel house that's now an inn. Some days we'd eat breakfast at the little restaurant next door. I wish I could remember the name of the place. Years prior we'd eaten there, John forcing me to get some food when I ended up sick during our trip. He wouldn't let me stay in the room and suffer. It was a good trip then, too. Sometimes you just have to get up and do.
So many memories. ...
We visited Victor once more after the 2014 adventure, it might've been October 2015. We stayed at the same place, and we ate so many bakery goods at that German bakery. ... I can't remember the details. It's funny how things fade. You just remember bits and pieces. Life rushes by.
I don't suppose I can make new memories like those. Everything is different now.
Four years ago I was still in Texas, a coworker brought in pulled pork and barbecue beans with brownies. That was before everything completely fell apart there. It's strange how you miss a job afterward. Being part of the community you grew up in by being involved in the newspaper is different than working at a paper someplace else. It'll never be the same. I wonder how things are going back home. Who's left? So many have been lost these past few years. John, two of my coworkers from back home, family friends, people I grew up knowing, and just a few days ago someone who took my sister under their wing and was like a father to her, also taken by cancer. I guess you really can't go home again. Home is more than a place, it's people. You have to realize when moving away you may never find that again. At least it won't be the same.
I'm still searching for a place that feels like home. I'm not sure if the wind will keep me adrift, or if I'll settle here. It feels like I don't really fit a lot of the time. Does anyone feel like they fit? I honestly don't know.
Late-night introspection and reflection as time continues its forward momentum.
This should be dated Monday, btw. It's meant as of that date, relatively.
Three years ago I was in Victor with John and Diane. We went to Cripple Creek and ate chocolate turtles, meandered through the shops, and I bought my nephew a gift. I think he still has that Cripple Creek fleece. I remember the streets being torn up in downtown Cripple Creek, the amusement as John played video poker while Diane hit the slots. There was the German bakery we where we ate breakfast in Victor, and the scenic drive through the golden aspens that ended up back in Cripple Creek. We never did get to town while "The Creek" restaurant was open. John and I ate there years ago. He had tomato bisque with a BLT while I had brick oven pizza with jalapenos. He didn't believe me when I told him how hot they were. That was amusing, but probably only to me. It's a great place to eat, but it needs to be open more.
I think we were staying at the old brothel house that's now an inn. Some days we'd eat breakfast at the little restaurant next door. I wish I could remember the name of the place. Years prior we'd eaten there, John forcing me to get some food when I ended up sick during our trip. He wouldn't let me stay in the room and suffer. It was a good trip then, too. Sometimes you just have to get up and do.
So many memories. ...
We visited Victor once more after the 2014 adventure, it might've been October 2015. We stayed at the same place, and we ate so many bakery goods at that German bakery. ... I can't remember the details. It's funny how things fade. You just remember bits and pieces. Life rushes by.
I don't suppose I can make new memories like those. Everything is different now.
Four years ago I was still in Texas, a coworker brought in pulled pork and barbecue beans with brownies. That was before everything completely fell apart there. It's strange how you miss a job afterward. Being part of the community you grew up in by being involved in the newspaper is different than working at a paper someplace else. It'll never be the same. I wonder how things are going back home. Who's left? So many have been lost these past few years. John, two of my coworkers from back home, family friends, people I grew up knowing, and just a few days ago someone who took my sister under their wing and was like a father to her, also taken by cancer. I guess you really can't go home again. Home is more than a place, it's people. You have to realize when moving away you may never find that again. At least it won't be the same.
I'm still searching for a place that feels like home. I'm not sure if the wind will keep me adrift, or if I'll settle here. It feels like I don't really fit a lot of the time. Does anyone feel like they fit? I honestly don't know.
Late-night introspection and reflection as time continues its forward momentum.