Come May, I’ll have lived here for three years. In the past two of those three sets of 365 days, the idea of moving has loomed over my head like a gray cloud. So many friends have come and gone. Almost to the point when I meet someone new the thought of, “well, they’ll go onto something bigger and better soon so why get too close” would always cross my mind. I feel as though in the past few months I have been tested a lot and the once gray cloud of feeling the need to leave, has now seemed like the silver lining of motivation to progress to something a little more sustainable, meaningful, and basically something more real.
Don’t get me wrong; there is nothing I know that would give me a bigger smile than a great day on skis, bike, or foot in the company of the mountains. However, I’ve come to realize that this is the problem. I don’t know what else would make me happy…and I find myself not happy if I don’t get to play in some way each day. In a way, this is a bit of a selfish outlook on life. Yeah, it’s fun...but whom am I really sharing it with? Where will it take me? 50 years old, working 3 jobs, a jeep full of gear, and probably some great photos of some great experiences. What won’t be captured in snap shots would be wedding cake smashed onto my face, crowded car family vacations, opening the door of a first home, a repulsed child’s face the first time he or she tries vegetables…. these are the images that are worth more than a powder day.
In a perfect world I would have the best of both worlds, but in reality I feel as though I need give a lot more than take to eventually get the happy medium I think I deserve.
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