I realize today that we don’t have much time. Time to look at the mountains, to smell home cooked food as it wafts down the block to where we’re sitting. Time to let things sink in or to feel everything. These moments will be gone quickly and all that will be left are the people and things we felt them for.

I’m sitting on the rooftop of a fourth story coffeeshop with big open windows. It feels like I’m in a Jeep Wrangler with the doors and top popped off. All those extra parts (the sides of the car and the roof) are off somewhere sitting in someone’s garage. There’s structure around me but for the most part I feel free from the typical confines of buildings. Covered but not, like the outdoor-acceptable version of naked on the go.

The wind is blowing just enough that my hat threatens to fly off every ten or so minutes. It’s just enough to keep me on my toes. Tapping on the keyboard, then holding onto my hat as the wind takes my thoughts. I’m surrounded by mountains and buildings, thousands of miles away from where I thought I would be in the summer of 2015.

If I think about it too hard I’m blown away trying to figure out how I got here.