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MONDAY

I’m half-asleep when my mom’s alarm starts ringing in the other room at the same time my phone begins to buzz. We’re up at 3:30 AM. My sister groans. Outside, it’s close to freezing temperature and the city of Auburn is dead quiet. Into the car we pack our tired bodies and my luggage, and then we’re off to pick up my grandmother from the coffee shop where she’s waiting outside in the early-morning fog. I help toss her heavy polka-dot suitcase into the back of the truck as the Auburn Courthouse glows golden in the background.

The good thing about driving this early is all the lights are green. We take the freeway to the airport. We all say our goodbyes and give our good wishes. My grandmother and I trek inside to see SMF’s new B Terminal, which is super snazzy and organized, and we get our tickets and we check our bags and we take an escalator (passing the Old Soul) up to the tram that takes us to the boarding gates across the tarmac. Everything is new in this part of the airport. I’m finally starting to wake up as we pass through the security check-point and I’m randomly selected for special x-ray treatment, then shuffled along with the other post-Christmas travelers as we hurry to put our shoes back on and gather our belongings.

We’re ninety minutes early, so we get breakfast and play backgammon and wait until 6:00 AM when the bar starts serving alcohol and I get a mimosa and grandma goes for a screwdriver. We chat with the bartender for a while until our plane begins boarding and the next thing I know, we’re in row 5 and I’ve got the aisle seat. There’s a screen on the seatback in front of me. The woman across the aisle from me looks like a nervous wreck. I start reading “A Farewell to Arms” and can’t help but hear the voice of the actor who played Hemingway in “Midnight in Paris” as the prose distracts me from the safety announcement and the chit-chat going on between my grandma and the woman sitting to her left by the window. Our plane has to be de-iced so it takes a few extra minutes to get to the runway.

Then we’re at cruising altitude.

I read a little, sleep a little, watch a little TV and suddenly we’re landing. We’re in Denver and I can see the snow-capped Rocky Mountains outside the window. The airport is crowded. Here I am, in Denver, traveling about and seeing new things. Sure, I’ve been to Denver before, but not in over four years, not since I was an underage drinker at my uncle’s wedding. Now I’m older and wiser and more captivated by the world around me. I soak in the newness. We make it outside to the passenger pick-up area with our luggage and Brett arrives with his wife, Megan, a few minutes later to whisk us away.

We’re staying at Megan’s parents’ house in the heart of a snow-covered neighborhood that makes me think of the neighborhood from A Christmas Story. I half-expect to see Ralph running around with his Red Rider BB-Gun, shooting his eye out. Or maybe we’ll turn the corner and see Charlie Brown and Linus sitting on a stone wall contemplating life, love and the pursuit of happiness. When we get to the house, Sonny and Mary-Anne welcome us inside. Good people. Grandma and I are shown our rooms (I’m in the basement on the couch) and then we’re eating brunch in the kitchen. The house is very lovely and comfortable with nice things everywhere. Three little dogs run around on the hardwood floors, stopping occasionally to stare out the window at the birds and squirrels in the backyard. I’m sitting at the bar between the kitchen and the living room and Megan’s family won’t stop feeding me. Soon it’s time to continue our journey to Boulder.

None of this looks familiar. The last time I was in this town was before Brett was married. It’s like I was too busy looking at my shoelaces all the time or something. I’m excited to revisit Boulder with open eyes and a traveler’s curiosity. I love the snow on the ground and everyone in their winter coats. I love the colorful storefronts and little homes with smoking chimneys. We visit the college campus where Megan points out her old sorority house and Brett, who met Megan here, brings us by his old apartment (the one I visited years ago). We get drinks at a place called Salt, then jump back into the truck and return to Denver. I’m feeling a little over-stuffed and sleepy, so I keep quiet, chiming in with a couple bits of dialogue so as to feel included, finding it bizarre how even at 24 years old I can still feel like the child in the group. I forget sometimes that 24 is still really young. Also, how can I contribute to conversation when it revolves around building careers, buying homes and making families? I’m not there yet. I’ve got to finish grad school first.

Back in Denver, the evening consists of a half-dozen games of Askew, a Manhattan, a couple glasses of wine, a delicious dinner, visits from other family members and more gift opening. Megan’s family—and, by extension, my family—was very welcoming and warm. It was easy to feel like part of the group, despite how rarely I’d seen or spoke to these people. I found this rather beautiful and it made me appreciate the value of a happy home. Slowly people began to disappear to fall asleep and I eventually made my way to the couch downstairs where I watched the Jenny Love-Letter video, longed for her, then dreamt about her as I slept.

TODAY

In the morning grandma went on a walk with Mary-Anne around the neighborhood while Brett took his dog to see the vet, so I spent my first hour of the day writing in the basement. Once it sounded like people were upstairs, I joined them for coffee and conversation, which stretched until around noon when Brett, Megan, grandma and I left for Breckenridge.

This little town nestled in the Rocky Mountains was ridiculously picturesque and full of bundled families and snow-capped rooftops. I took a dozen photos from the backseat of the truck, captivated by the snowy mountains sprouting up around us and the forests and the frozen lakes and icy rivers. Our journey took us to the house of Gretchen, a friend of Brett & Megan's who had a baby boy she wanted to show off. The house had amazing views of the mountains; the baby had amazing blue eyes. 

Fun as it was to tag along, the visit was more of a taste of parenthood for my uncle and his wife who want to start a family soon. I'm still a few life spaces behind them, so my interest in the baby waned quickly, and thankfully we only stuck around the house for a few minutes before heading into town for lunch. I will admit that I was inspired when I saw the kid and the way my uncle and Megan handled him and how Gretchen, the mother, was glowing with pride and love and happiness. I could see how life-altering and exciting it would be to start a family. I made a mental note of that feeling, then reminded myself that I've got a lot to do before I'm ready for that. We had lunch at Gretchen's husband's (co-owned) restaurant, then parted ways and returned to Denver.

The evening consisted of a Chinese food feast, a Skype session with Jenny, a failed-attempt at playing Rock Band with Brett, some idle time outside by the gas fire-pit, a few glasses of wine, some family tension, a lot of dog petting and some time spent researching the Turkish-Armenian conflict. Now I'm about to go to bed on the couch in the basement and tomorrow there are no official plans, save for perhaps a reunion with Shaun in the late afternoon. I'd like to go walk around the neighborhood and take a few more photos. Maybe Brett and I can figure out how to get Rock Band to work. Tomorrow is my last full day in Denver before the train ride home and I'm pretty happy that, as the title of this post reveals, I haven't spent a single dime.