If you are not Karen, you can obviously still read this. However, I don't really want you to. This is Karen's post just for Karen. If you choose to read this post, know that I don't want to talk to you about it. I'll only accept criticism or compliments from Karen. So go ahead and read it, but don't talk to me about it.
At one point in my teenage years I was biking. I don't remember where I was biking, most likely up the mountain to home from town. The climb is steep, it's Colorado. Out of breath and tired I asked myself, "why are you doing this?" In that one sweaty breathless moment I asked myself, "why"? Some people lift weights, others run on treadmills, some chose racquetball, but I've always had chosen biking, walking, and running. I thought about it the rest of the way home and finally decided that I chose running, biking, and walking so that I could get away.
Living in a small town one often observes trapped peoples. Daughters of teen moms become teen moms whose children become teen moms. Some people just don't leave home, ever. I don't remember how young I learned about the eddy's of small town life that can leave you paddling to nowhere, but on this bike ride in my teenage years I discovered that covering ground made me feel free. I could get away if I needed to. I could pack a backpack and walk across the world, or jump on my bike and pedal away from the swirling current of my life.
I forgot about this thought until recently. I was biking up the same hill at 24 years of age, with difficulty. I was running the same road, looking out at the same Rocky Mountains I used to watch as I wore out my sneakers. I just got home. I just got home after being away for years. There are new faces in town, people I've never met and probably won't. Some familiar things are gone: the soda fountain, my friends, my desire to Rollerblade every day. There are new things popping up: a flashing sign that advertises town events, a dollar store, strangers.
The last few months have been strange. When I first arrived home I didn't even know who I was. It was clear that I could not bring all of my new self into this old place. It was clear that I was not who I used to be. I had to do a lot of exploring. I listened to songs I hadn't heard in ages and asked myself, "Do I like this? Do I really like it?" I discarded many old clothes and deleted whole sections of my past. I cut a triangle into my hair, kissed a stranger, meditated, tested, tried, and constructed. So here's a little about me now:
I like the blues.
I have stage fright.
I think purple is ugly.
I like love stories, movies, and experiences.
Karen is my favorite.
I love my home.
I am impatient, social, punctual, creative, sweet, and a little lazy.
It's been an interesting ride, deciding again who I am and what I like. It's also been incredibly fun. I've made some mistakes in my explorations, I've tripped a couple times, but at the end of the day it feels good to be transitioning, changing, metamorphosing, moving. I've been diligent about biking, running, and walking often, just in case I should have to get away. I feel lucky to have this place. I feel lucky to be looking at the same mountains as a very different person. I feel exhilarated by the challenge of coming and going from this rocky home.
On another bike ride around the same time as the one I mentioned before.. I thought of this line: "I am surrounded by mountains on every side, is this a trap or a ramp for take off?"
Karen, I love you.
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