The Older I Get

“The older I get, the more I think, you only get a minute, better live while you’re in it, cause it’s gone in a blink.”

Driving back from Denver this week I was struck once again by the spectacular beauty of nature in Colorado. I had checked the webcams at Wolf Creek and the road was clear and the weather apps didn’t show any snowstorms on the way. So I took the scenic route along the mountains and plains. The consensus of the weather folks seems to be that winter is late coming to Colorado this year. Once it sets in I’ll most likely have to go up I-25 and that rolling treeless country isn’t my kind of place. 

I drive through Bailey, one of the prettiest sections of the trip. The narrow road winds along the South Platte River. There are no shoulders on the road there and the forest and the river come up close and wrap you up. I skirt the little towns of Buena Vista and Salida as I go into and out of the Colorado plains. The Arkansas River tumbles along past them. 

In Conifer a big mule deer buck stops traffic as he crosses the highway. A small herd of buffalo graze in a pen near Fairplay. A group of young men wearing football jerseys play a game of football in a ranch pasture beside the river where fly fishermen cast a line back in the summer and early fall. Their jerseys are big, as if they covered shoulder pads on a different field in a different game. They all look like Dallas Cowboy jerseys but whether they are professionals here on a Thanksgiving break, or are fans, or college friends, or family, I can only speculate.  

As I left Denver V-formations of Canadian geese fly over heading to a warmer climate ahead of the cold snows that are surely coming soon. I can hear their honking and am reminded of how much Rickie loved the wild geese. As I pass a high school football field I see it’s covered with them, taking a rest and a feeding break. We used to see them by the millions in the rice fields west of Houston before subdivision after subdivision replaced the flooded fields of rice. 

In the higher elevations there are patches of snow under the trees and the sun dims. A few cars are parked at Kenosha Pass, their occupants off somewhere down the trail. Once I get to Wolf Creek there is more snow. At the summit kids and parents are sledding down the hill. Later in the season snowmobile, cross country skiing, and snowshoe trails will embark from this area but for now the kids have it to themselves. 

It’s been 3 years today since I sat on the deck of the screen porch and held Rickie’s hand as we waited for the formality of the medical examiner’s proclamation. On the Masterpiece series Poldark, Ross says that his mother was the star his father set his course by. Rickie was that to me. Since then I’ve had to set my own course. And it has led me to this beautiful place and here I’ve found a home. As with the ranch, I find I have to keep returning to it when I’m away. It centers me and the loneliness of it comforts me in a way that’s hard to explain unless you are also a person like me. One of the things about losing your best friend at this stage of your life is you realize you’ll never have another best friend. On the rare chance that you should run into someone who maybe has potential to be that friend you don’t have time left to form that bond you had. So in its place you embrace the loneliness of being best friends with a memory. 

All is well when I make it home and the first thing I do is go around and raise the shades to let the sunshine in. No matter the temperature outside this is what I do the first thing every morning. In the same spirit, I try to let the sunshine into my life.

Because the older I get, the more I think, you only get a minute, better live while you’re in it, cause it’s gone in a blink.

Alan Jackson The Older I Get

My granddaughter Lexi introduced me to this song. Click on the link above to hear Alan sing it.