I Was Born Here…

Another work week comes to an end at six this evening, and then I’ll have just five weeks and two days until retirement (but I’m not counting). It’s hard to believe that what’s been a dream for the last couple of years will finally be coming to fruition. While we moved regularly during our time with the United Methodist church, we’ve been pleasantly dormant for the past decade. Moving is like bicycling, though, and it comes back to you almost immediately. The prospect of settling in Colorado just in time to see the aspens turn color provides more than enough incentive to get the job done. We will not, as I have said before, be in a position to waive employment which will be necessary to supplement the modest pension we’ll be receiving, but even that holds the lure of a new adventure. As I watched an interview of a life-long resident of New Orleans, he explained that he came back after Katrina because it was his home. “I was born here, and I’m going to die here.” Whether it’s the Big Easy or the Rockies, that’s a sentiment I can understand completely.