“Do you think
Durango is the final stop for you?” my co-worker turned friend, Peyton asked
me.
She was telling me about her plans
to move up to the Front Range after she graduated college, and wondered what I
would be doing after she left.
“I think so,” I said. “Durango is
perfect for me.”
“I’m nervous about the move,” she
said.
“All great things in life should
make you at least a little nervous,” I gently suggested.
Recently the machine that is
Facebook reminded me it was exactly five years ago that I moved here to
Durango. It showed me the jalopy I packed full of every possession I owned, and
I could practically taste the fear. I was 32 and after ten years in the little
icebox that is Gunnison, Colorado, I needed a new start. Problem was I was
terrified of starting over.
I remember when I moved here I knew
I had a limited amount of time of grocery store anonymity, and other things
that come along with small mountain town living. I liked that for a second - in
Gunnison everyone knows everyone and it can be confining at times, especially
in the dating world - but after a while of flirting with Durango as a place to
live I knew I wanted to become a member of this community.
Durango was tough at first. I moved
here just after the economic crash and work was scarce. I’d spent years honing
my writing skills and was hoping to quickly find a good paying gig. When that
didn’t happen I went back to my other profession of working in the food
industry, and started a publishing business on the side.
When I first moved here I had all
the time in the world to do whatever I wanted. I had a couple bucks saved from
my old 9-5 and a plush housesitting gig up in Durango West 2. I used to run
along the Animas River almost every day. One day I picked a spot just past the
Main Ave. Bridge and sat there and meditated on what I really wanted out of
life. The river was especially peaceful and lush there with trees gently
overhanging over the green water. It came to me - all I wanted was to build my
life with love in this little town where the mountains meet the desert, perhaps
until I die. Day after day I would stop at that spot and reflect on my vision.
Slowly the anxiety of starting over
started to fade. Grocery store conversations started happening. I became
friends with some of the baristas where I holed up and wrote and read for hours
on end, like the answers to dreams are in stories (they are). I remember the
feverish week when I read “Love In the Time of Cholera” by Gabriel
Garcia-Marquez and my heart travelled a thousand miles all while sitting there
drinking coffee.
Fortunately the economy did bounce
back and these days I’ve got more work than I have time. My leisure days of
being a stranger and losing myself in books in coffeeshops for hours on end are
gone. Each and every minute seems valuable and precious these days. Daydreaming
has to lead to action, after all dreams are realized with work.
Work, dreams, and the landscape we
live within are all nice things, essential to the modern person, but I think
what has made me love Durango the most in the community, transient as it can
be. The modern world is full of illusionary connections, like we’ll immediately
fall in love with someone we meet on Tinder, or we think we know what our friends’
lives are like based on their Instagram photos. Starting over in your thirties
is hard, and the fact that I truly feel like I have a real community of friends
in five short years here in Durango says something really powerful about this
place.
So this brings us back to my friend
Peyton. We started work together the same week three and a half years ago. She
was 20 and just started at Fort Lewis. At first she seemed very shy, but over
the years we got to know one another; working in a busy restaurant kind of
guarantees you’ll get to know your co-workers, and you gravitate to those
people you get along with best.
After a couple years we ended up
living on the same street, and in the summer we would both ride our bikes to
work. We jokingly formed a bike gang, and during those summer nights riding
home we would tell each other about our lives (mostly our love lives). It was
like the conversations I had in my mind with the Animas River, but with my
friend. Saying a dream aloud keeps the dream alive.
Summer nights always pass by don’t
they, and life moves on. Peyton moved to a different apartment, and right
around that time she started dating someone. Now they are planning to move to
the Front Range together. When she told me that it really hit me how fast life
is flying by. Just yesterday it seemed like I was the new kid on the block in
Durango, and now I’m seeing good friends move away to follow their dreams.
When I first heard the news of
Peyton and her boyfriend leaving (he is a good friend and co-worker of mine as
well) I lamented that they would no longer be in my day-to-day life here in
Durango. More than anything though I think we should want our friends and family
to be happy and follow their own dreams. My dreams took me to Durango, and I
was scared as shit that they would never come true. You know what though, they
did, and my life is more balanced and happy than it was before. Friends come
and go, but really they are always with you.
And since its Thanksgiving, I’ll end
the piece by saying this: to the people of Durango I’m thankful for you.
This piece was published in the Thanksgiving issue of the Durango Telegraph.
