We’re here.

Here means an elevation of over 10,000 ft in the Rocky Mountains.

I think I’m going to be dizzy for the next week. Every time I run walk up the stairs the room starts spinning and I gasp for just. one. breath.

I live at sea level, remember.

Oh, you mountain folk may laugh, but John is living proof that even if you grew up here, when you live way down with the commoners at a normal elevation, your lungs do indeed shrink and you can no longer run marathon-ish distances in little-to-no oxygen. It just don’t happen, peeps.

Not that I’m running, mind you. I get all the workout I need just making it to the top of the stairs.

But, lack of breath-ability aside, OH MY WORD, how I love it here. I love it here. I mean, I really LOVE it here.

Just one breath (albeit shallow) of that crisp mountain air and I’m vowing I’m never going to leave. I’m going to lean back in the grass beside that front yard tree, gaze up at the snow covered mountain peaks on all sides, and be content.

So, people back home? If you ever want to see me again, you’ll know where to find me. Sitting among the evergreens. Wearing Melanzana clothing.

But all that to say, our trip went well, we’re safely in Colorado, the kids didn’t do too much screaming in the 18 hours of drive time, and we never paid over four dollars for gas. We’re in the mountains, fighting for oxygen, discovering the wonders of Grandma’s house (“Look, look, Mommy! Oh! Look, look! Grandma’s house!”), and we’re surrounded by pictures both past and present of that guy we love.

What could be better?

I mean, a little more oxygen might be nice, but, you know…

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