Since returning to Colorado, I have experienced what may only be called a weight, a pull that is both from without and within. Something about this place gets into your blood; it can be ignored, but it is always there, coursing through your veins and, consciously or not, drawing you back home. The feeling is almost a physical pain, an ache in your heart that cannot be assuaged. The deliciously fresh air, the savagely blue skies and sunlight which can only come from high altitude, the earthy reality of the mountains, the brittle green-brown of the cottonwoods, the calls of ravens and bellowing elk, the chilly, infinite vision of the Milky Way on a clear winter night - it all speaks to me, in a way I cannot explain, nor can I refuse it. My friend calls it a loyalty, a trait of my own that I have attached to this place, but it is more than that. It is not just me.
It is home.