I had planned on doing some shopping in Boulder yesterday, but plans had to change. The friends I’d wanted to hang out with today were going camping this weekend, and yesterday was the only time we could manage to hang out. It was awesome. We had a super time, great conversations, we even went on a hike. They live in a suburb of Denver that seems very far away from the city, yet when you hike up this small hill, you see this great view of the Denver skyline, such as it is. They’re only about 10 miles from Denver, but they can walk down the street to some trails that feel distinctly un-city.

It was sort of disappointing to need to leave earlier than I was inclined to, so I could head to Boulder for my dinner plans, but of course I had a fabulous time with my friends for dinner as well, so it is hard to say I wish I hadn’t made those plans. Impossible, in fact. We had great conversations, great food (Nepalese and Himalayan), and the time flew. We were at the restaurant for almost 3 hours, which really shocked me when I looked at the time as we left. It hadn’t seemed like much time at all. One of the qualities of good friends, I think, is conversations like those.

Despite surprising myself with having missed the mountains (which I always had a love-hate relationship with, not doing all that well at high altitudes, or even the medium altitude of Denver itself), and feeling the heart strings being tugged at being back in Denver, and despite these good friends who I miss being able to hang out with, I still can’t see myself living here again.

I’m not sure where I can see myself living for more than a few years at a time. I can’t decide if this is an “issue” that I need to deal with, or if this is simply inclination. I know there is no perfect place, but I am still looking for “my” place. I’m less and less certain that “my” place is one single location, however. I want the city, the mountains, the ocean, the desert. I want transporters.

sebastian running

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