by Jeffe Kennedy
It's my turn not to have something to say for this one.
I've been turning the topic over in my mind all week, thinking of all the street corners I've passed through. The corner of the cul-de-sac where I grew up springs to mind, though it hardly counts as anything. Just a strip of grass and a sign post. But seeing it always just preceded seeing my house, which meant coming home.
But that's all there is to say about it, so I think of all the places in Denver I've known and loved. I thought particularly of the triangular street corner where 17th Street diverges and the Brown Palace hotel forms a wedge to fill it. I never really spend time there, though. It's just a landmark.
Then there's the sidewalk cafés where I've spent countless lovely hours having wonderful conversations and watching the people walk by. When I think of those, the memories spiral exponentially, sending a kaleidoscope of all the cities I've explored and enjoyed. The little place in the sun of San Francisco, the hot night of Chicago just off the teeming sidewalk, a covered patio in Florida while the rain pounded just feet away, a dock in the Caribbean.
How do I choose?
This is the picture that I kept coming back to, just down the road from where I live now. I love how the road leads off into the fog to the mountains, with the cautionary speed limit just there.
I'm a here and now kind of gal, I suppose. A "love the one you're with" type. Right now this is what I love. In a moment, we're walking down to a coffee shop in Snowmass Village, Colorado, because we're up here for the weekend. I fully expect to love sitting there, too, in their version of a street corner.
I suppose this makes me something of a whore. But then I've already 'fessed up to that.
Happy Birthday shout out to sister Word Whore, Allison Pang, who shares my birthday tomorrow!