It’s the freakin’ weekend… #3
By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be in Colorado on my way up to FairPlay. “Why Fairplay?” You may ask… This weekend marks the 23rd annual father/daughter fly fishing trip I take with my dad every year.
A letter to my brother.
We always had this running joke, my brother and me. I would always introduce him as “my little brother.” But at the ripe age of about 11, he outgrew me.
While I’ve been away…
As some of you may (or may not) have noticed, I haven’t posted to my beloved TOBR in about three weeks. I am not apologizing for being absent.
This life.
He picked me up at the bar I used to work at in Boulder. I sat in his gold Honda and as the heat blasted from the vents, I sighed. It was cold outside — the kind of cold that stings your legs.
They say home is where the heart is, but what if your heart is in more than one place?
I spent the past three days in Colorado. I had purchased a discounted ticket a few months back with some coworkers with the intent of spending the weekend on the slopes showing them around my precious Rocky Mountains. As the trip approached, I had to make a decision: show my coworkers from San Francisco around the mountains, or spend time with family and friends in Denver. I opted to spend the weekend catching up with family and friends.
Ten years ago
I was 12. I was attending West Middle School in Greenwood Village, Colo., and was in the seventh grade. It was a normal Tuesday. For me at least.
While I was in school that day, two students at a neighboring High School just less than ten miles away were on a killing rampage
Home “bittersweet” home
It’s always bittersweet returning home from a trip. Especially a great one.
My trip last week to San Francisco was incredible. It was different than a usual spring break vacation.
