So if I want to be all, you know, “honest” and stuff, I know why we chose to live here and not smack in the middle of the city that single me swore she would never, ever abandon.
It has NOTHING to do with all the typical “when you have kids you will feel differently” drivel that people spew as they shop for minivans to load their growing brood into on the way out of Urban forever. Hell no. People do a great job raising great kids in cities (WAY bigger than the one we left behind,) all over the world – that line is for chumps imo.
It is this – we are blessed to live in a beautiful state where city, prairie, and mountains all meet together, and growing up right here in this very town on the edge of all 3 of those things meant something to me.
It is the same reason why, though I LOATHE driving or riding in the mountains at this point in my spoiled Colorado native life, I will be refilling my Ativan script, dusting off and strapping on my Girl Scout Camper Smile, and riding off into them thar hills in the back seat of The Mr.’s Jeep next to Junior to share the joy of the purple mountains majesty with our son. (Incidentally, if you have ever ridden with a Texan in the Rockies, then you will understand why I might need TWO Ativan. And wine. And prayer, lots of prayer. )
The city is where I am comfortable, it is my oldest, dearest sweater and I would be perfectly content to wrap it around me each day for the rest of my life.
The thing is – you can’t let yourself wear your comfy sweater every day – sometimes you need the Va-Va- Voom red dress, or the uber-trendy top that will only get one season of play. You need adventure, even if you have to force it a bit.
I want Junior to know and to love it all – the city that is like a second-skin to mommy at this point in her life, but also the mountains that brought his daddy up from the Lone Star State to Vail, and eventually to me, and also the wide open prairies and small friendly towns that so influenced me when I was growing up.
It would be easy to just be a city family and stay cocooned in that environment, and if we lived in it I think that is what would happen. So here we are at the crossroads of all of it – ready to let him eagerly explore wide open spaces and rocky trails and city streets alike. If he is anything like his mother growing up here, he will love and loathe each one at different times, and, I hope, grow into a deep appreciation of each one. Just maybe living here again will remind me that there were things I loved in each of them too.
(Or there could be if the damn Texan would let me drive when we go into the mountains.)
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