THE ONLY TIME I TELL THE TRUTH WHEN I AM SOBER.
Here's a post from the fabulous Ms. Huck that was regrettably lost in the piles of paper on my desk. Lucky for you, I found it.
SURROUNDED
I hiked the Ute with Huck yesterday. We hike it a lot. We went up and down all summer; my new ACL held its own but each step of the descent reminded me that I was not yet fully healed.
The trail is different in the fall; dark and cool and mostly empty. It is beautiful in a mature way, somehow different than hikes in the spring, when the trailÂ’s fresh splendor and my freshly un-bandaged knee had the energy of an anxious puppy. Now it is like an old friend, one who you know so well, each root, curve, and vista, that you notice the subtle but ongoing changes. Hidden roots are exposed as dirt is washed away by the rain and views are altered by the newly bare Aspens. Rain and snow have left it wet and slippery, so I bought some trekking poles for support on the hike down.
An old friend came to town to have dinner. We met in Aspen almost seven years ago and he changed my life. Once my best friend and the love of my life, he is now just an old friend and someone who has known me completely and loved me anyway. Walking through town after dinner he asked me why I was so in love with Aspen. I looked around, surrounded by the familiar sights and smells that make Aspen my home, and with an enormous smile I replied, “Even when it's bad, it is so good.”
Heartbreak is humbling. I am fortunate in that I was humbled into the arms of my friends. It felt like I hit the hard ground, but I know that my fall was softened by the ready hands, shoulders and words of my friends. Not wanting to be home alone I crashed on everyone'’s couch, I lost my pants in J and Da'’s loft, I got a pep talk from Brades that meant more than he knew. I drank wine with the other two badass brunettes, I ate take out with Riss, and Bean and I sang along loudly and badly to Air Supply. My dad called to say "“hi"” and I cried. I saw the knight at Bentley's with the new girl and I cried. I ran a stop sign that I could not see for tears and while the officer wrote up the ticket, I cried. I cried to El and El at work, I cried buckets on Beanie's couch, and in Cook's hug I cried until I finally laughed.
The descent was excruciating, but I had a lot of support.
I walked to my car last week to find that my front right tire was completely flat. Sadly, I had no idea what to do. Freezing and helpless I ran (in high heels) to find Ry-ry, who went to the gas station with me, showed me how to put air in my tire, and told me how to get to the tire store. My couch weighs five hundred pounds. Literally. It now rests beautifully on the second floor of my new apartment. I knew that I was going to need a little help to get it up the very narrow stair case so I made a few calls. I didn'’t say much and did my best to stay out of the way as the boys uncrated, disassembled, and maneuvered the couch up to my living room. Following the effort we sat on my front porch, basking in one of fallÂ’s last warm afternoons; me, my ex-boyfriend, his college roommates and my friend's soon-to-be ex-husband. My friends. Who needs frogs when I am surrounded by princes?
The day I moved to Aspen I found a group of people who have since become my friends. They have been my problem solvers, dog walkers, drinking buddies, ski buddies, confidants, counselors, and my cheerleaders. They have made me laugh, made me cry, made me drink, eat and sleep. I have been laughed with, laughed at, hugged, kissed, carried, thrown and drug. I have been listened to, understood, confided in and trusted. They have been my sisters, my brothers, my family, and I have been loved. I am loved.
Everyday I walk out of my front door and look around. I am surrounded by the mountains that I have known and loved all of my life, surrounded by my old familiar friends. Last night I walked under their comforting gaze to meet some other familiar faces. Perched on my usual seat at 39, surrounded by my friends, I laughed until I cried.
Only a few more times up the Ute until winter sets in for good. It is already snowy and icy up top, but not to worry, I have my trekking poles. I will miss my old friend but I will be skiing down the other side of the mountain in no time, on a healed but scarred knee, surrounded by friends who have seen me through it all.
Even when itÂ’s bad, it is so good. ThatÂ’s the beauty of living in Aspen. That is the beauty of living.
