I returned to my home state of Colorado a year and a half ago. Now, it’s a matter of making it feel more like home. I was away for over 30 years, so a lot has changed – except me. I came home to the troubled teen who aged out of foster care, but I brought with me all the years I didn’t fit in. Now, I’m finding my way to becoming home.
When moving here, I dreamed of a place where I would have a view of the mountains like I did when I was a child. Well, I don’t have that view right now, but it doesn’t matter as I’ve come to know just how irrelevant that is. Instead, I can feel the mountains; their majestic presence and silent strength are always there. They quietly watch over me as I scramble and scurry but for a brief moment. My story is not even a page in the grand library of their existence. Yet, as they have welcomed me once again, I will endeavor to do my best writing on that page.
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