Main Street Bagels -- Grand Junction, CO

It's the delicate time of morning wherin the sky is colored with dapples of white, grey, and blue. I'm sure the sun has risen, but it's trapped behind these seemingly delicate clouds.

Chatter in the background about "Jonathan Saffron Foy... Foy... how do you say his last name?"

"See you later, Bruce. Keep politic-in."

The door creaks open and closed and I shiver and glower each time my back is brushed by the chilly outside air.

Coffee pots clank. Espresso machines clunk.  Steamers whirl, fizz, and bubble chaotically.

"Do you have a 12 oz?"

The outside tables are deserted, but the hodgepodge of colorful umbrellas makes them appear more animated. Three reds and one green umbrella --

"Patterson?"

--are awake and open, and the rest sleep over their single wooden leg, waiting for a barista or afflicted customer to unfurl its faded canvas.

*Creak*

Cold air

*Creak*

"Good morning!"

*Ring*

"Hello?"

*Ring*

"There you are! Have a good day!"

I'm starting this post from my favorite coffee shop.

A cool breeze dances through the branches of the manicured trees lining Main Street (a Ukrainian friend called this particular couple of blocks the "Europe of Grand Junction", and it's the only place in this conservative, sprawling city wherein I feel I don't have to work to fit). I can't remember a time spring has been so mild in Western Colorado. We generally have an easy winter, one week of cherished idyllic spring, and a blazing hot summer until late September, when we embrace a perfect autumn. All of Colorado was on fire last summer, this past winter was bitterly cold, and now spring is mild. I would love to just sit back in my chair and appreciate the coolness, but I'm feeling uneasy. Thunder sounds overhead. This weather is too extraordinary to be healthy. Too extraordinary to be simply considered, "weather variation."

It's early morning on a weekday, so it's quieter than usual. This would be a pleasant if the coffee shop music today weren't so terribly unpleasant. A European couple sits on the couches to my right, quietly sipping their coffee and chatting in what seems to be a Scandinavian language.  It's odd to think that in 3 months, foreign languages will dominate the background chatter. The music will still be bad American music, but I will once again lose my ability to eavesdrop.

I packed up my room today. I love packing up my room. I love clearing out underneath my bed and delving into the deep recesses of my drawers (that's what she said). I love knowing exactly what I own and that I own nothing I do not need or use. I hoard books and I hoard art. These are the only material goods to which I am attached that no longer serve a very active purpose in my life. I am very thankful to be so unattached to material items, because it would certainly make leaving "indefinitely" more of a struggle. I suppose I have my parents to thank for this mindset. My childhood was constant movement, as we didn't have good enough credit to purchase a house. We moved from rental to rental, and I enjoyed packing up my room more and more each time. I relished the new starts. Finding different posters to decorate my walls and discovering how best to arrange my furniture in the strange space. Making a space my own became an exhilarating challenge.

My birthday is tomorrow. I celebrated with my family in Moab yesterday, and I'm celebrating with my friends at my house tomorrow evening. My father and I had hoped to set off at 5:30 in the morning, which means that we were lucky to have my mother and sisters in the car and ready to leave by 6:15. I enjoyed sitting in the backseat of the car with my two rambunctious sisters; I haven't experienced such intense horseplay in ages.

Moab is one of the primary tourist destinations in Utah. It is an absolute paradise for lovers of the outdoors, as it offers mountain biking, jeep tours, slack-lining, base jumping, rock climbing, zip-line adventures, and glorious hiking. The Colorado River runs through the town of 6000 residents, so whitewater rafting and kayaking are also popular pastimes. As Rifle, CO (where I spent the majority of my childhood) is everything I despise about small towns, Moab is everything I love. It's clean, friendly, outdoorsy, and dominated by delicious breakfast places with quirky names such as, "The Love Muffin."

Moab is certainly adventure-crazed.

Some interesting street art

The Love Muffin -- most of their dishes are made with organic, local ingredients.

Even if Moab offered nothing else, it would still be awesome. Bacon, maple, blueberry muffins. Yes, please.

After-breakfast hike

Locating landmarks can be problematic for Jaime.

The wildflowers in spring can be stunning. I like the contrast they provide to the slick-rock.

Jaime continues to struggle to spot things in the distance

 

High five!

Seeing jeeps attempting to traverse the trail was mildly amusing

Bikers struggled up the technical slick rock just in front of the jeeps. I enjoy this type of terrain. Hikers are the fastest, then the bikers, then the jeeps. I feel very accomplished keeping ahead of all the wheels.

We headed back to town after our hike, enjoyed some smoothies and browsed a few of the local shops. It was a splendid way to celebrate my birthday with my family and say goodbye to Moab. Although Ireland, France, England, Turkey, India, Nepal, and multiple other countries are inflicting me with nearly unbearable wanderlust, I will miss this part of the world. I used to loathe this arid climate with its sparse vegetation and rocky terrain, but I have finally grown to appreciate the beauty of my home.

Perhaps that's because I'm leaving.