I feel it, change, in the air. This week, temps will drop to the 30's, overnight.
Fall feels good and shortly will be making a grand entrance. My favorite time of year, a love for changing leaves, brisk, fresh air, and promise of snow, has only increased (significantly) since moving to the West.
I was meant to be here, made for the mountains, for fresh streams, and beautiful alpine lakes.
People move West for varying reasons—skiing, outdoor activities, jobs, running away for known/unknown reasons.
Little did I know I might have been one of the runners. Maybe. I didn't have a reason, really, other than a job opportunity. Rent and food motivates most everyone. It motivates me. If I were to pick up and move, the mountains would be my new home. Denver and Durango were on my list. Further north called. I gladly answered, having never been to this part of the country. It wasn't a bold move, as has been suggested. It was a move of faith. Pure faith.
Not one single time have I regretted moving. Not. One. Time.
If I was running, subconsciously, I can't think of a better place in which to run. Peace fills my life. When peace is threatened, I make very conscious changes, to keep that which I've worked hard to bring to my soul.
Why do we settle for less than the best?
Not only surviving, we are meant to thrive.
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