Wednesday, May 4, 2011
This is the month of April and early days of a cool spring in Colorado. There are days spent mountain biking, running, sharing with friends and family. There are reflections and vivid moments that shape memories. There is warmth in the eyes of my sons that carries me through the days and there is an acknowledgement that we grow together. I may lead and I may follow and together we are able to learn. Colorado holds spaces and places that I have known since childhood and yet I cannot go a year without discovering a place right here that I've not yet seen. The world is my back yard. It holds my hopes and dreams, my success and my failure, my ambition and humility, my mistakes and my love. The world is ours and we each see it through a sphere which we can only attempt to share. When we are gone, one can only hold the photos and perhaps see a shadow of what we saw. I sometimes hold a photo taken by a loved one and I peer into it as though trying to see a reflection of them. There is something of them in the photo, something in what they saw that held more than the images before me. A place was more than a place, perhaps more or less than home, truth, trust, or betrayal; perhaps a space that represented a moment of happiness, sadness, togetherness, or loneliness - perhaps any and all in singular and collective moments - perhaps finite or eternal. Perhaps there is a piece of us in all that we leave behind - and perhaps we leave behind and take with us more than we might ever know.