The other morning I woke up and realized it was September. I've been living in Colorado longer than I lived in Toronto. My life is virtually unrecognizable from the wintry day I drove away from Marchmount Road. The leaves here will turn soon, they tell me, and by late September it should be snowing in the "high country." I picked up my ski pass on Monday in Aspen, from a young woman who moved here from a small town outside Ottawa. I felt excited and Canada-sick at the same time. Life is rolling along.
It's been a very exciting summer, though. The weather was more beautiful than I dared to imagine. I went on my first solo vacation, dubbed "the vision quest." Apparently my vision was a bit blurry as I adopted Parker soon after my return from Moab. Puppy has been a handful but a great focus for personal growth. I like to think we bring out the best in each other.
This summer, I've learned a lot. How to deal with a broken down vehicle (and the 'helpful' men who come along afterward). How to hike and camp outdoors and climb a mountain, and dance like a marmot under the full moon. I taught Parker to heel. I've figured out how to say what's on my mind and get what I need, most of the time. I figured out how to balance my checkbook, for goodness' sake, which is a feat that probably should not have taken 25 years.
I feel at home here and comfortable and safe. Carbondale is my town, and I hate to be away from it, even for something as exciting as the Democratic National Convention. Which, by the way, was unbelievable. In a good, interesting, I-saw-Anderson-Cooper-up-close kind of way.
Carbondale has changed too, in the months since I rolled down Main Street for the first time. We've got four-way stops at almost all the intersections, for one thing. I knew I'd adapted when my reaction to this was, "Whoa! That's a big deal!" They've been putting in little traffic-calming islands, and burying power lines underground to make the street prettier. I noticed the other week that in the morning town workers sometimes sweep the cigarette butts off the sidewalks, which explains why they're always so clean. When Parker and I go for our first walk of the day, we greet our regular pals, including the King of Main Street, T. Ray Becker, who affectionately (or gruffly, as a cowboy might) refers to Parker as "his" dog. The health inspector came to the Black Nugget and now Parker and his dog friends aren't allowed to go inside -- which he still doesn't understand when we walk by. He thinks he did something really wrong, I guess, to get banned. Ryan, the owner, had a baby last weekend and the whole town seemed to know about it, sharing the details excitedly with any familiar face.
"Peyton Marin O'Hara! 7 pounds! Marnie had her at 1:30 this morning! Ryan's on his way back from Glenwood with pictures!"
It seemed like Carbondale hosted a festival or event every weekend this summer: 5 Point Film Festival, Mountain Fair, Festival de las Americas, a fundraiser for the Carbondale Center for Arts and Humanities, First Friday concerts, Sundays in the Park, and finally, last weekend, Carbondale Citizen Appreciation Day. They blocked off Main Street so the local police could serve bbq pork and corn on the cob, and soda, free of charge. A stage provided live music, there was dancing, and after dark the fire dancers lit up the street.
It was the town's way of saying, "Thanks for living here."
Well, Carbondale, thanks for having me.
