You can't go home...

I guess it really is true. You can never really go home. After a long delay in Phoenix due to bad weather in Denver, I finally arrived in what use to be home. Only a few rements left to remind me of my youth and all the joy growing up here brought. Things change, people move on, houses are torn down and old haunts are but a ghost of a memory. But I didn't come here to relive old memories but make new ones.
 
I was picked up at the airport by a cherished long time friend and had some of Mama Alvino's pizza with friends that are as close as family. I got to meet the newest member of the family. A four year old ginger who immediately adopted me as his best friend. Remember young man, you can't hit those big ole moths on grandma's glass door with that baseball bat I gave ya.

I settled in at the Motel 6 in what use to be the upscale part of south Denver but like all things, time erodes away at the new. The first room wreaked so heavily of cigarette smoke (despite the peculiar signs) that I wondered if had been used as the bar in a previous life. The front desk was cordial and apologetic and gave me another room, for which I am grateful. The new room smelled fresh and clean. Some times it is the little things that invite misery and some times the little things hold it at bay.  

Oddly enough, as I settled into my new clean room, it was the first time I have felt lonely in a really really long time. It didn't take long for me to grab my IPad and start typing out the sound of my soul. I suppose hiking solo will have those moments. It is good to know I have tools to engage those times.

I am keeping this one short so I can fade into the comfort of sleep as I listen to the electronic chirping of crickets and a virtual campfire on my "You Tube" night sounds recording. A blessing from electronic media until reality lulls me to the Land of Nod. I guess if you try, home can be wherever you need it to be at the time. Just sayin'...