Candles, conversation & Colorado

In the Colorado Rocky Mountain high, I seen it raining fire in the sky…

It turned out John Denver and I kind of had the same experience; while his was sometime in the early 70’s, mine was a few weeks ago. I had the opportunity to come back to my hometown and celebrate my marriage with close friends and family, and while there were some bumps along the way (honestly, when aren’t there when you’re traveling) I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Mr. Denver was watching a meteor shower, which is what I heard inspired the song. I was surrounded by stars of my own: my friends and family back home. And oh, did I miss them. I didn’t realize how much so until I stepped foot off the plane in Grand Junction, Colorado.

Walking out of the airport and seeing the familiar mountains that my friends and I made our stomping grounds led me to tears. I was flooded with so many memories of growing up, finding myself and building relationships, sometimes to the point where it was overwhelming. Despite this, I was relieved to be home.

The first few days were a blur: filled with planning and catching up with everyone. With the intention on doing another marriage ceremony, I had bridesmaids, mostly my Colorado friends already picked out, their significant others, my brother and more friends as groomsmen, and my mother taking care of logistics. (She’s a rockstar, by the way. She did all this while recovering from knee replacement surgery.)

It seemed like I was needed everywhere all at once while we were planning, when I was most concerned with enjoying the moments, but the planning paid off, coming together into a beautiful ceremony at a peach orchard, picturesque mountains in the background. After the ceremony, my friends and I spent hours talking about everything under the sun, and it felt like I had never left Colorado.

The whole trip was moment after moment of nostalgia. The day after the ceremony, my mom invited me back to my hometown church, where I saw church friends I had spent a large portion of my teenage years with every Sunday and Wednesday. We went to brunch at a spot I used to frequent with my family, where the cinnamon rolls are literally the best in the country, (I’m not exaggerating.) And my husband and I got the opportunity to travel to the mountains and revisit the spot where we had our first kiss.

The cherry on top of an already eventful trip was what I like to call “Three Guys and a Candle.” My friend, one of my bridesmaids, is an illustrator, and months ago, she announced she was becoming a tattoo artist. Ever since I met her, I was always a huge fan of her artwork, and I KNEW that I wanted a tattoo from her. During rehearsal, I casually brought this up, and she offered to give me a tattoo from a flash sheet she had drawn up.

I found a super cute flower she had drawn, and we set a time for the Monday after the ceremony. Needing a huge support system with me for this momentous occasion, my husband, my brother, his girlfriend and my friend’s boyfriend met up at her house’s art studio.

Once we arrived, my husband instantly noticed the smell of cinnamon in the driveway.

“Someone’s baking cinnamon rolls!” I exclaimed as we made our way to the front door.

The “cinnamon roll” was actually a beautiful candle my friend was burning at her front window in a vintage-looking glass container.

After dinner, it was time for me to get inked. While my tattooing friend, my brother’s girlfriend and I were in her tattoo studio, I heard a commotion outside, but since we were focused on the tattoo, I didn’t think much of it. My friend’s boyfriend walked into the studio, timidly bringing up the unfortunate series of events that had just taken place.

The candle burning by the front window had sparked up, sending a huge flame up into the air. This caught the attention of my husband, my brother and my friend’s boyfriend. Worried that the candle would catch the curtains on fire, my friend’s boyfriend grabbed a glass of water nearby and dumped it on the candle. However, cold water and hot glass do not mix, as the three guys found out. The glass surrounding the candle shattered. Thankfully, everyone was okay, and we all got a laugh out of it.

The candle story taught me something. Admittedly, everything in me during the nostalgia wanted to abandon everything, pack up my husband and clothes and go back to my old life in Colorado. But I learned, rather quickly, that I may have the same fate as my friend’s candle.

I’m burning bright, and I’ve got so much more left in me. But moving back would be like pouring water on that burning candle. Not only would we have to start anew, but more change might end up cracking me, especially after all the work my husband and I have done to start building a life here. With new opportunities in the works here, why would I leave it behind for something so uncertain?

Am I going to visit? Absolutely. But this little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.

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