Not quite a city, not quite a farm, I grew up in the middle: a suburb called Green Mountain. It borders both Denver and the Rocky Mountains, yet it only exists in between the two, never as a part of either. The people here are kind of funny. Most don’t ever leave the bubble of suburbia, completely naïve of what goes on outside of our little home. At least, nobody ever did before Denver started to grow faster than anyone could keep up with, pushing further and further outward, and closer to us. We are blessed with beautiful views and great stuff to do. For instance, Red Rocks Amphitheatre where many great bands have played is close by, gracing our nights with the echoes of various melodies. Yet, living here has certainly made me feel like an outcast. I don’t fit in with the big city folks and all of their business and crowds, and the rural country I find too calm and inactive for me. So now, I too, sit in the bubble of suburbia, too scared to venture out.

(more to come later...)