Colorado Day Two

My post titles are not very creative, so I’m going to have to start coming up with something more descriptive. The problem is, we’re not doing much yet, so “day one” and “day two” seem to be about as descriptive as is necessary. Tomorrow, however, we are doing Four Mile Hike, so hopefully it will be a livelier posting.

Today, I’m continuing on the theme of how we are seeing through the lens of a half-full glass, despite the cast on Erin’s leg, and the fact that we have now had to call in a prescription for Alison for cough medicine WITH codeine. And we woke up this morning to a large crack in the front windshield of our van. Okay, so now it’s just getting sort of funny. And Kyle mentioned this morning that he wanted to go up into the hot air balloon this year for the first time, and I told him that perhaps this isn’t the year to do that.

But despite all that, the mountains that surround our condo are beautiful and unchanging. They are the same mountains that have been here every year since we started coming to this place in Colorado (30 years ago). Those mountains have surrounded us during the vacations that were filled with all good things, and the vacations that are more challenging. Yesterday we saw a rainbow jutting out from behind a mountain. Night before last we watched a gorgeous sunset that was peeking out from behind blue clouds just before it dropped behind the mountain range. The mountains are the reason that Dad brings us here every year. Something about them evokes a sense of timelessness. We watch our family changing, growing, aging, but Pagosa Peak looks the same as it did when I was a restless teenager who spent way too much time in the Rec Center playing Pac Man. It hasn’t changed since Kyle and I brought Colin and Erin here when they were babies and we were exhausted young parents. And I can look out my window today and see the same Pagosa Peak. The babies are teenagers now, and they are restless but they are good and funny and they still like to hang out with us sometimes. The grandparents are older and moving slower, but being together for this two weeks means the world to them. And Kyle and I are not quite as exhausted as we once were, even though there is another little one in the house again. She brings us joy and reminds us that looking at the world through a child’s eyes is often the best way to view things. And the glass is truly half-full, despite the cast, the codeine and the crack in the windshield, so I am raising the glass in a toast to the mountains…and the blessings that surround us.