Stuck like glue

There was a time when I was stuck like glue to my family, our events, to any and every crisis, to our religion and dramas.

By leaving the place of birth and making Colorado home (over 35 years), the place I think of as home has disappeared. Gone are the grandparents, parents and siblings. Some died and some moved away. Gone is the home where you could always find a place to sleep, food to eat and usually a cigarette burning.

One pole on a dirt road in Mead ColoradoNow, to visit the folks means a trip to the cemetery and an afternoon of weeding and planting new flowers.

When I return to the old haunting grounds, it’s usually a feeling of wanting to return home, to Colorado that sits with me.

The wide open spaces, blue skies, sunshine, mountain views and peaceful feelings remind me that I am home.

Now, I’m stuck like glue to Colorado.