A Photographic View of Life

"I have a peculiarly good memory for visual details, for certain moments. It's not exactly a photographic memory. I can't read a page of text and repeat it verbatim without looking. But I can summon pieces of my past and 'see' them as clearly as if they have been thrown onto a screen in some interior movie theater. There are times when this is more a curse than a gift...but it helps with the kinds of painting I do, and it's not the kind of thing a person can change in any case." --Roland Merullo In Revere, In Those Days.

I have photographic view of life. I remember shirts that my interviewers wore at my first professional job. I remember my first drive up to Estes Park on US 36, and my feelings of confusion at the dry, desert landscape that preceded the climb into the mountains. I remember when my ex-husband and I were dating, what it felt like dropping him off at his house, after our first week-long vacation in Gatlinburg. Not even 2 hours later, he was back at my house because he missed me.

I have a lot of wonderful memories locked away in this head of mine, filled with exquisitely fine details of the people and the places and the feelings that went with both. It is a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing to remember the things that remain true. It's a curse to remember what went wrong and why. I am haunted by a mind that is designed to make sense of every exquisite detail. But I am thankful for what that mind allows me to do. I take these details and turn them to every angle. I construct stories that resemble them; and heal with each word that brings meaning to their happiness and sadness.

Sunset at Mt. Evans

Yesterday evening, I had this great idea. I wanted to see the sunset from Echo Lake near the Mount Evans Wilderness area. Though storm clouds loomed over Lookout mountain near my condo, I had to take the chance that the clouds would clear somewhere up there in the mountains. I was hopeful that the clouds would clear over me.

So, I threw Trinity in the back of the truck and we set off. We witnesed an incredible lightening storm and a brief bout of rain. Then we turned off the exit at Idaho Springs and began our drive up into the clouds. Everything smelled fresh after the rain. Even the sky seemed to have found it's own clean slate.

At this look out, Trinity and I took a break from driving and took in the beautiful view. Everywhere I looked was a little more inspiration. Finally we left this roadside pull out, and continued on to Echo Lake

The Lake was just as I hoped it would be. People were fishing from the road off it's banks. Trinity and I set off on our own course. We walked the far side, and headed into a thick pine forest. I felt safe with Trinity by my side. I knew nothing would get me as long as she was by my side. That's the upside of living with a dog that is constantly challenging you to be alpha female.

We ran back through the woods, with the temperature falling. I was glad I had the forethough to bring a jacket. I could see my breath as we ran. After arriving back at the car, I realized how lucky I was to see such beautiful things and to have such a loyal companion.

Meyer Ranch Hike

My good friend Kathy and I connected this weekend to take a short hike at Meyer Ranch Park in the mountains of Colorado.

Kathy was kind enough to take a photo of me standing in the aspens along the trail.

And finally! My first ever Columbine in the "wild". The Columbine is Colorado's state flower. I was thrilled!

Alone

"Look into watery old eyes and see refelected there a past that is impossible to reproduce in this fast and broken-up modern age, an age in which the younger members of the family have struck out on their own to make their fortunes, and ended up living like kings and queens on small, lonely, perfectly landscaped suburban islands" -Roland Merullo, "In Revere, In Those Days"

I live in a fast and broken-up modern age. I methodically go to work in the morning, yearing for the evening. At work I do my best to keep up an enthusiastic facade. Managers love people who look like they are enthusiastic. They love people who look like they'd rather be at work, and tolerate the task of going home. That is not me.

My profession is not a complete fit for me. It is a logical maze of problems, once solved, that only reveal more mazes of problems. It is taxing.

I live far, far away from my family. I live like a queen in that I can pay my bills easily when I am working, and even reward myself with some luxuries. But I live in a condo; my own small, lonely, perfectly landscaped suburban island. I do not have a large circle of friends. I have a large circle of acquaintances. I am beginning to resolve myself to the reality that this may be all I can achieve. At night, after work, I am spent. I have nothing left to give. Maybe if I lived closer to family, maybe life wouldn't seem so lonely.