for the love of my town part I

My beautiful Colorado is burning! This morning I woke up to orange shadows on my front porch. Fortunately for me, that is all it was. Eleven thousand other people don’t share my story though as they have been evacuated from their homes waiting for embers to cool. I didn’t know I cared so much about this state until I realized that it, in part, defines me, and I didn’t realized it had until I came back and had a conversation. I was actually chatting with one of my friends that I met in LA who is originally from Colorado. He said simply, “Things are different here.” Colorado is its’ own story. My town has its’ own values and social norms. One of my first memories of it is running into my front yard with my neighbors whenever we heard a siren come up the street. I would collect with the other children on my street to see what had happened to Mrs. P or the local deer (yes, the police did come to my house to help a deer with a broken leg).  The creature sometimes takes the liberty of leaving its’ scat on my driveway and one of my young neighbors decided to do the same once. But that’s another story, aren’t small towns wonderful? I know everything about you and your girlfriend and her aunt, but maybe that will be unfortunately in my neighbor’s case when he grows up. As the fire rages, I watch as friends bring animals down the mountain in their spare trailers. These animals aren’t even theirs, but they are determined to help. Yes, things are different out here. And it’s more than just the water or the fire.

Katie