The Good Life

I used to say “life is good” all the time. And it was. Since Rickie died I’ve never said it again and it’s been almost 6 years. I had this shirt when he was alive and I haven’t worn it since then either. One day I put it on and it made me cry so I took it off. Folded it up carefully and put it back in the drawer. On the bottom of my t-shirts, under the Jimmy Buffett concert tee. 

I’ve always known it’s the little things that make life good. The painted bunting at the bird feeder, the tiny flower you don’t notice if you aren’t looking down. The full moon lighting up the yard. Dinner from the grill and a cowboy margarita, kale and garlic from the garden. The sunflowers, poppies, and larkspurs coming back each year. Floating down the river on a lazy summer day with the grandkids. Laughing with Rickie over some silly thing. The first norther blowing in and dropping the temp 40 degrees. 

And it’s also some of the bigger things we had in our life. Big to us, not to everyone, things it took us years to acquire and many sacrifices. Having the property in the middle of Texas with the tiny cabin and bunkhouse. Plans to retire there. Modest vacations to New Mexico, Colorado, and in Texas. We never made a lot of money so these things stretched our finances. But we gave up other things to have them. We planned to live simply when Rickie retired and spend our days working on our place, floating the river, having dinners in the yard with friends, taking the tiny camper we had bought on trips west. Rickie would continue hunting and doing some fishing with the kids that wanted to. We’d sit by the campfire and on the porch and watch the longhorns and wildlife go by. 

Life was good. 

But my life is good now. I live in a beautiful place and I share it full time with part of my family. Some of the kids and grandkids come to visit. We have new adventures. We do things we never did before. The family has been lucky so far with this virus and at least right now, no one has been sick with it. 

I have beautiful moments in my life. Like when Bix ran downstairs and into my Bear Den, the part of the house I live in, with his binoculars. He yelled “get your phone to take a picture, there’s a deer in the yard!” Walking him to the school bus stop back before school was moved to distance learning. Planting a garden with him and teaching him what I know. Setting up a stock tank with fish, something we both love having, a memory from the ranch when we always kept goldfish in the stock tanks. 

Giving the grandkids the opportunity to learn to ski and snowboard, being able to set them up with gear and a lesson to get them started. Seeing them ride down the mountain, bringing their friends, seeing the mountains through their eyes, hearing their stories. Going down the sledding hills, everyone laughing and screaming, faces flushed from the cold. Sitting by the campfire surrounded by snow, a billion stars overhead, making s’mores like they’ve done since they were small. Their friends calling me Grandma Sue. 

Riding horses up in the mountains, single file up the trail. Hoping you get a glimpse of a bear, and hoping you don’t! Looking down at the town nestled in the valley. Rafting down the river, ripping with snow melt. Something I never thought I’d do. Hollering when the 42 degree water splashes over you and glad you heeded the advice to put the waterproof pants and jacket on. Hearing stories from Ben, the best guide ever, some of them even true! Another lazy trip with the kids paddling beside us in inflatable kayaks and Ali taking over from Ben steering the raft for a bit, the end of summer making the float easy going. 

My first hike in the first Spring here, alone by the Piedra, no one else there, directions given to me from an older man I met on the downtown river walk. The man who said he’d been here 19 years and you couldn’t dynamite him out of here, giving me hope that I’d feel at home here too. The bartender I didn’t know who offered to send her dog with me so I wouldn’t be alone in case a bear was around. Though I didn’t take her up on that I’ll never forget it. 

Hiking on the trails, some along the river, some in the woods. Feeling your skin prickle when you find the huge bear footprint in the mud by the river. Walking a little faster when you pass the perfect spot for a mountain lion to pounce. Everyone stepping from rock to rock to get a picture in the middle of the river. Skating on the ice in their hiking shoes when it’s frozen over in the winter. Watching them scoot up and down the steep river banks and the boulders as big as a truck. Then trips hiking up to Treasure Falls, the first falls we saw here, pointed out to us by our shuttle driver Cindy the first time we went to Wolf Creek to see what skiing was all about. 

Riding the train up to Silverton with a friend, hanging out the window over the mountain edge taking photos. The Pumpkin Patch train and the Polar Express train, two of the special ones for kids both young and old. The air crisp and clear on the Fall one and Santa and the lights at night for Christmas.  Cutting our first trees down here in the National Forest after a trip with friends to learn the ropes, taking them home and decorating them. Celebrating and decorating for Christmas the first year I was here, for the first time since Rickie died. 

Squeezing as many beds into the house and into my sister’s condo as we can, making room for the grandkids and friends that come. Everyone doubling up and no one complaining. Trips to Durango and Telluride and Ouray. Trying new drinks at the local breweries and bars. Walking the 5k and seeing the hot air balloons rise above the river. 

Hearing everyone’s stories at the end of the day, told with animated faces and much laughter. Especially the ones that didn’t go quite right. Like the time John and Nic went skiing in a blizzard without a lesson and the time Celia tripped over a kid that fell off the lift. He was fine but she had to make the trip down the mountain in a rescue sled. The time I dismounted from a horse and my foot hung up in the stirrup and I just fell off, laughing the whole time. 

This has been my life here in Colorado. As I look back at it so far, I feel so lucky and so thankful to have lived it and to continue living it. It has been more than I could ever have hoped for after the dark hours, days, and months after losing Rickie. I’m so grateful to my family, who hated to see the ranch go but who have embraced this new adventure of Colorado full speed ahead. No regrets. No “should haves”. No “why did yous”. Just jumping into life with both feet and a holler and a smile. 

These are tough times right now for many people and I feel very fortunate that our family has been mostly well so far. There is much heartache in our country. And in our family some are facing difficult challenges. But today I felt the need to look back over the last few years and acknowledge the many blessings my family and I have had. To acknowledge the ways that life has been good to us. It’s been full of many small wonders and some big ones. Sometimes you have to stop and reflect on that, to ground yourself in it as the world spins around.