As I sit waiting at my gate in Denver International Airport, the bright winter solstice sunlight heats me through the wall of windows. I've got a one-way ticket home to the Big Island, and in a few months, I'll embark on my next adventure--destinations TBD, COVID circumstances permitting.
Today, I'm running on four hours of sleep and a morning coffee delivered by my dear friend Claire. This feels like the first time I've been able to truly pause in weeks. It feels like a good opportunity for some reflection. As I prepared to leave Colorado indefinitely, there were a host of hurdles to clear, large and small, some planned and some unanticipated. But finally, everything that needed to happen before I go has happened. And though I'm still experiencing a mild anxiety hangover (What have I forgotten to take care of? Will I regret the things I couldn’t fit in my suitcase? Where the hell is my passport?), I'm ready to be on my way.
It feels surreal to be closing this chapter in my life, in ways I haven't given myself much time to process. After eight years in Colorado, I'm leaving as a different person than the 22-year-old fresh grad who plopped down in Boulder in 2013 with a full Subaru and not a lot of plans.
In the intervening years, I held three positions at Easton Training Center, contributing to its growth and evolution as it contributed to mine. I made so many deep, enriching connections, learning how to recognize and nurture the relationships that bring me joy and strength. I experienced deep love and caught some tough lessons. I became a homeowner and a landlord. I grew into myself—developing a self-assuredness that feels so damn good and a self-awareness that occasionally doesn’t. But I’m using that. And I’m doing my best to live my values, be better than yesterday, and have so much fun.
The pandemic era gave me a lot to think about. Staring our collective mortality, the disintegration of our society, and the mounting instability of our climate in the face for the last two years has been kind of awful, but in some important ways, it’s been good for me. It’s been a catalyst for a pretty drastic course shift—because if not now, when? I asked myself, “If I died today, what exactly would be a bummer about that?” I concluded that I’ve been putting off my decade-long aspirations to travel extensively. And if I’m not intentional about pursuing the life I want, I’m going to suddenly wake up old and full of regret. Or possibly, I’ll die young, and you’ll have to do the regretting for me. And none of us want that.
So as I fly west, chasing a few hours of extra sunshine on the shortest day of the year, I’m looking forward to this next season of my life. For the first time in a long time, the near future is pretty unclear and unplanned. I’m sad to be parting with people whom I love so much. But as I jet high above the places that have grown so familiar, I feel grounded and grateful, and I’m ready to keep on becoming me.
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