A Little Bit Later Than A Little Over Almost a Month A Go: Part 1

My feet are cold, and have been cold since I left Texas and crossed the New Mexican border to Colorado.

Everyone in New Mexico warned me that Colorado was cold. New Mexicans shiver at the mention of the state. New Mexicans shiver when its sixty degrees. I shivered in Colorado, but the people there didn’t. They didn’t even seem to notice that it was cold. They still wore their big coats and scarvess, but seemed to enjoy them.

On my first morning (well I guess, only morning) at Colorado Springs I sat in the corner of Starbucks huddled over my peppermint mocha, holding my hands over the trickle of steam coming from its lid, pretending it was a small fire. I was trying to warm up after a night of sleeping in my truck in a Wal-Mart parking lot. I know there are many people who don’t like this store, for the effects it has had on small businesses and for its treatment of employees, but if there is one good thing about Wall-Mart, it is that they welcome campers, even protect the drivers of Semi’s, motor homes, and vehicles that park and sleep in there parking spaces. This particular one had 24 hour security—an old man in truck who drove up and down the rows—assuring safety for those spending the night. The cold kept me awake most of the night and when it didn’t, the flashing yellow light of the nice security grandpa did. So as soon as the sun rose I wiggled out of my sleeping bag and headed to Starbucks.

The Starbucks in Colorado Springs has an amazing view out of its storefront windows. Through the foggy condensation you can see Pikes Peak. I had to duck my head down just a little to see the top, which had snow on it at this time of the year (maybe it always does, I'm not sure). It was beautiful, but made my feet cold.

I watched, from my pretend fire, the mountain, every few moments glancing at the customers. There was one lady in particular that caught my attention. There was something very attractive about her, not necessarily physically, but just one of those people you see and for some strange intuitive reason, really like. It’s almost as if you think they have some secret about life and so you watch and hope to notice it. She was reading a newspaper, which she offered to me after she was finished, and commented on how nice the day was. I agreed, but said nothing else because I’m not very good at small talk, and she left. Once outside the door she stopped, threw her scarf around her neck, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

People breathe differently in Colorado. They seem to be more aware of air and thankful for it. Probably because of the altitude. Or maybe it’s just the cold, sneaking up the backs of their shirts like stethoscopes, that causes them to take deep breaths as they walk out doors.

I dunno, but I wonder if that lady did know a secret. I wonder how my day would be different if when I walked out the door, I chose to stop and fill my lungs with a big taste of oxygen.