For the past five years, I’ve lived a mile above sea level: 5,130 feet to be precise. Living at altitude is different. Blood oxygen levels are lower. Sleep can be impaired (not good for someone with sleep apnea). But you’re closer to the sun, which is out most of the time. And the humidity here, in this semi-arid high plain, is low.
I’ve made no secret of how much I love this place. I wish I’d moved here years ago. I can’t think of a better place to live. Yet today I leave my mile-high home.
There is a lot about this place I’ll miss, but perhaps I’ll miss the skies the most. The two photos were taken at Boulder and Rocky Mountain National Park. I can’t find an adjective to do the Colorado skies justice.
Vera, your grandmother said she’ll miss the mountains the most. I can’t argue with that. Seeing the magnificent Rockies every day is an indescribable blessing, and climbing over them has been an inexperience unlike any other.
But today we leave our mile-high home. Soon, we’ll be living near you. That will make it a very, very special place.
The anticipation of the next excites me. I always look forward to turning the page. So I will travel down to sea level or something close. And as I do, I will turn the page in the book of life.
I don’t know what I’ll find in the next chapter, but I’m sure it will be new and interesting. I like new.
I’m an incredibly fortunate guy, certainly more so than I deserve or have earned. I’ve had the good fortune to spend the past five years in an amazing place. And now I get to spend the next few years in a place that’s even more amazing, because that place is your home.
My life reminds me of a scene from one of my favorite movies, Babette’s Feast. Following the feast, one of the town’s men looked up to the starry sky and remarked, Hallelujah!
Perhaps it’s a good time to listen to this.