It's hard to believe it's been eight years since I got my first one bedroom apartment on the edge of Cheesman Park in Denver's Capitol Hill neighborhood. I didn't know it at the time, but this city had some big things in store for me.
Not only did I learn how to take control of my finances and grocery shop for just one person, I learned that living alone is really not for me. I lived with some of my favorite ladies and then, later, with my husband in a place we know affectionately as The LG. I went on a fake date with my husband to the Central Branch of the Denver Public Library, then went on a real date with my husband to Vine Street Pub. I married my husband at Denver's City Park, and made some real quality friendships with the women who married his buddies (shout out to Abby Eye for the last VooDoo Doughnut I'll probably have for a while.) I dug in some Monday night roots with a trio of the happiest, healthiest educators I know.
I learned that working as a full-time teacher in a building that's not air-conditioned during 100 degree Colorado August days is not something I was physically built to do. I learned that making friends with other bloggers in real life is way better than connecting online. I discovered holiness in showing up to help prep and serve meals to people in need. I learned that the only constant is change and that sometimes what's in store means believing that life can be just as lovely somewhere else.
It already hurts like hell but it's time for me to go. Thanks for the memories, Denver. You have my heart.
By the time you read this, I'll be on a plane to San Francisco. Because why not throw my dad's 60th birthday weekend trip into the tail end of our cross-country move? I'm not sure when I'll get back into the rhythm of posting here, but I promise it'll happen eventually. I'll see ya when I see ya.