Hanging out with an older lady (There is a good chance she is going to kill me for that)

My coworkers were ready to have Mrs. Robinson playing when I started up my computer yesterday. Forget the fact that Wendy had informed them she was there at my birth, or had driven to Boulder to see me. Nope, they figured I was full of shit. Well, kinda at least. It probably didn’t help that we had margaritas together; and she paid. Or that I took the day off to run her butt up Sanitas, into Rocky Mountain National Park and into the movie theater. On the outside looking in, it must have seemed kinda strange.

It was a great day. One of those days in Boulder where you never feel rushed, but somehow manage to see the Rockies, Flatirons, Rio and Stone Cup without breaking a sweat. The kind of day where conversation flows together, weaving in and out of topics, crashing down at times and then receding back to more comfortable waters.

We talked a lot. I’d like to say it’s because I can add valuable points to conversation, but we all know I’m kidding myself on that one. At one point, somewhere between the flat wasteland of America’s Midwest and Gods natural speed bumps, the Rockies, we talked about her late husband and the grieving process.

The conversation was in confidence, but it stuck out. I had close friends in high school who lost parents, friends and siblings. I somehow managed to sidestep the funerals, memorials and suicide attempts. I did, however, always wonder how I would grieve.

Throughout the day a central theme circulated our conversation. The need to get out and experience life. For Wendy, an “older” woman, it was how to cope with post-kid life. For me, a “younger” man, it was how to start a family and set down roots. We both had our desires. Our aspirations. Our similarities.

There is a country song going around on the radio right now about how life goes faster than you think. I’ll save you from the depressing lyrics, but it was evident yesterday while hiking up to Cub Lake that life was what you make of it.

Wendy got in her car and drove away from home. She decided to shed skins. Look deep inside. Take a journey of self discovery.

En route, she just so happened to spend a day with me, in a place I am growing to love. Living in a town that seems so similar to back home, I’m still alone, wandering into bars with good friends, but new friends. Her familiar face was a welcome site. A grounding of existence. And of course, so was her ability to tell me how it is, and set me back on track.