Yesterday I was in Borders and I almost bumped into a man that looked a lot like my dad. For a second, because I wasn't paying attention and because I was looking very hard for a very specific book, I thought he was my dad. And then I remembered. I am in Colorado and Dad is in Virginia. And I could have cried.
I have been thinking about Dad a lot lately. The thing is, I think he would love it here. Jonathan and I were driving through Golden a few weeks ago, listening to the O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack (which seemed like the perfect music to be listening to as we were driving over the grassy rolling hills) and I just kept thinking about my dad. I mean, that kind of music (I guess anything with a banjo or a fiddle, really) reminds me of him.
The sky goes on forever here. And the weather is so crisp and dry. And I see lots and lots of people golfing. Maybe the part of me that loves it so much here is the part of me that is my father's daughter.