the colorado girl returns to colorado. oh mighty square state, you speak to my soul. and this past week, you seemed to be whispering seductively, as i feel woozy from your caresses and pink sunsets and flat prairie dotted with sunflowers.
i’ve never been a big believer in all that “energy stuff”. but now (insert segway here) i’m a big one. colorado, you resonate with me. and i with you. i often get a case of the “homesick” when i visit my home state.
but i’ve also argued in the past that “you can never go home”. our homes, often synonymous with our naive, wondrous childhood, rampant with growth and an imminent & gradual loss of innocence. our home, and our mere definition of it, is intricately tied to childhood. only once we view our home through the dingy adult lens, we can see our place outside of it, standing alone in the backyard of the house we once lived in, the home we once had. it takes growing up. it takes a loss. a loss of home.
you can never go home again, because “home” is impalpable. it’s elusive. it’s malleable.
home is where your people are. home is where your horses roam. home is where you grew up into someone else, the person you’re destined to be, glimpses of fortitude.