One year ago today, Ed and I pulled up in front of a house on a vaguely familiar street in a vaguely familiar town with a car full of suitcases and cats, ready to start a new chapter in our lives. It was an anxious moment in a lot of ways. Packing up our beloved apartment and bidding our friends farewell in New York felt less final, somehow, than arriving in Boulder. It didn't really hit me that we'd left all that behind until I started to put our things into strange closets and cabinets in our new house. I had no idea what the next months would hold, and while I was enchanted by the charming neighborhoods and restaurants and the beautiful vistas beyond, I felt as though I was looking in at Boulder from the outside. We weren't yet a part of this place.
Today, it's difficult to believe that we have been here a year. There is no sign of the boxes that once filled these rooms, and my calendar is full of social events instead of phone dates with far-away friends. I rarely use Google maps to help me get around anymore, and I can speak with great authority about the quality of various restaurants downtown. Ed and I have landed a really wonderful group of friends, mostly transplants like us. I miss New York mightily, and in some ways it still feels like home. But Boulder is beginning to feel that way, too, and I can't wait to see what the next year will bring.
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