Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column caught between night and day.
Everyone knows that night turns to day at midnight. But when you are prowling Main Street and swilling whatever at 1 a.m., it is undisputedly still night. In fact, depending on your verve, night can stretch to 3 or 4 in the a.m.
What is also true is that, for some freaks of nature known as “morning people,” 4 a.m. is the waking hour. Time to go for an early run, time for a sunrise yoga session, time to make the doughnuts.
So what sometimes happens is the late-night people and the early morning people cross paths long about 4:09 a.m. It happened to us Friday night/Saturday morning (depending on your perspective, and our perspective is that it was definitely Friday night).
We were coming home from a night on the town, the event’s of which probably deserve their own column at a future date. Our friend and housemate, normally not one to be starting a day before sunrise, was up and making final preparations for what is surely to be an epic road trip.
Realizing what a rare occurence this was – this convergence of personal night and day – we decided to make the most of it.
“Good evening,” we said.
“Good morning,” he replied.
We were people, in the same moment in time, going in absolutely different directions. Us to bed, he to the coffee maker. But we used that time. We used it well.
We discussed the nature of time and the choices that brought us to that particular point in our lives. Why one of us was waking with the open road ahead of him and the other was retiring to sleep after a truly bizarre night (one that, like we said, merits more explanation at another time).
We reached no resolutions, only a resolve to discuss the issues again.
But again will have to be over the phone or in cyberspace, because, well, this one’s not coming back.
Yep, another man’s done gone.
We were warned about this phenomenon here in Summit Up Land. For all it’s wonderful qualities – we would enumerate them if our mood weren’t so dampened by the departure of our friend (you know what they are anyway, right?) – our county has this little annoying habit of running people off after, oh, say, two, three, four years.
This is a temporary place for many people. Few come to stay, and the ones that do are usually in a constant state of re-evaluation.
“Can I really make a living here?” they ponder.
“Are skiing and mountain biking really that important to me?” they ask themselves.
“Should I return to my friends and family back home?” their conscience nags.
“Would I be better off in Costa Rica?” some part of them wonders.
The answer, my friends, is … Hell, we don’t know. It certainly ain’t blowin’ in the wind.
Despite the seemingly consistent departures of people we care about, it’s up to us, dear High Country inhabitants, to keep the faith and believe in the beauty of our dreams.
We need to continue to create our community and live in it every day.
The more people that jump ship, the stronger the people who do not get. That is what we think. We’ve been here long enough to know that some faces don’t change. Some people are, indeed, here for life (minus, of course, those extended trips to South America, Africa and Europe.)
In fact we’ve come to discover that some folks leave and come back. We don’t rule that out for anyone, even for our friend with whom we had that dramatic night and day convergence. These mountains have a powerful pull.
It is Monday – the first day of the first week of the rest of our lives. (Cliche alert) Make the most of it. You can start by telling us how to truly live at firstname.lastname@example.org. Or just explain the space-time continuum into the voicemail at (970) 668-3998 ext. 237.
We’re out stretching night into
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