and to the mountains i go!

Every trip took more than sixteen hours. It was never about the drive time though, especially has a young girl. At that age it was not in my mind to question the way, route or time it took to get to Colorado. All I knew was that we had a map, a station wagon, sometimes a dog, and plenty of road. All three of us kids rode together in the middle seat because that's where we all fit and the back seat faced backwards which would make us car sick, or that was the assumption. We brought things to entertain us along the way. I had my Nancy Drew books. Julie slept. Garrett chewed sunflower seeds with Dad. Mom checked the map. At each gas station, we choose a snack and a drink. Water, the nicely labeled kind, was my pick. I never had a thing for soda. Occasionally in the mornings I would get chocolate milk. Mom never bought chocolate milk at home, but on car trips we could choose what we wanted.

The drive to Colorado was a long trek. We'd usually go through New Mexico, but occasionally we would head north through Oklahoma and Kansas. Either way, once we entered Colorado the air changed. You could actually smell the trees outside. It was as if once we explored the northern climate and found the dry air that so many more smells appeared. Traveling northward was an adventure. It was a far away place that I was privileged to vacation to every summer. Texas was always home, after all it was where we left the dogs when we left for vacation. Denver was always the last stop before the mountains. From there we would drive northwest through the canyon to Estes Park. Dad would open the windows. He would drive slower and brake more, plus there were lots of turns. Julie would get car sick, but I loved the drive. I would lean my head against the partially open window and gaze up at the steep rock walls that surrounded the road we drove on. Mom would play Amy Grant. No more maps, we were close. After coming over the last ridge, the city lights of Estes were visible from the road. I remember arriving at night most of the time after the sun had gone down. Four more turns and we were on the road that led up to my grandparents house.

The cabin was built on the mountainside among the trees. A cabin is too simple a description for my grandparents house. It is huge and has it's own driveway from the road. As a child, my grandparents house was a resort. A wrap around deck with hot tub. Two stories tall and a loft over the living room. Two fireplaces. Large windows throughout the house with no curtains to block heat or sunlight, not that either are bothersome when your residence is in the mountains. Standing in the kitchen, one can see the city from the sky and the mountain ranges that surround it. Long's Peak in the far distance serves as the masterpiece of the whole house. The house was positioned to frame the view of the great Fourteener. For me, each summer day in Estes had a mood that was dictated by the great mountain. Some days it would be bright and clear. The snow left on the peak showed the strength of the previous year's winter. There's always snow, but it varied slightly every once in a while. Some days the clouds would cling to the top and you could not see the peak. When the clouds are thick, they sink down to the tree line and the city is not visible. You can stand out on the deck and be in clouds. Once I saw a rainbow that was below me just down the hillside.

Colorado was once a distant destination reserved for the summertime. As a child, I loved every memory I made with cousins, aunts and uncles and my Mor Mor and Gramps in the mountains. Now my adventures are different. I've traveled and seen more of the world and grown up a little. The mountains found a place in my heart and now I'm grateful that I've found my way back. At 24, I call it home. Don't let my maturity fool you though, I'm still up for exploring.