Now, I'm not a native city dweller. I am in fact, a Laramie native, raised there from age 1 through the third grade. When I wasn't living in Laramie, I was living in Los Alamos, tiny town of physicists, and in rural Minnesota (seriously, our road wasn't even paved). Albuquerque is, in fact the only city I have lived in. I spent an entire summer in a town that was three miles across in either direction. In Utah. Moving back to the prairie should not be a stretch.
But I guess I thought that once I fell in love with city life, I was kind of, you know, done with the rest of it.
Clearly not.
"Two and a half hours to Denver," I keep telling myself. I can go there for urban therapy. Denver is a proper metropolis. They have a light rail system. That's like a real place.
And Laramie will be full of school. And other good things. I'm sure of that. But it's an abrupt about-face in terms of what I'm used to. So... a formal and fond farewell to Albuquerque and the desert southwest. I'm off to new cowboy country, a land where men are men and sheep are... sometimes pretty comforting companions. Sorry, sorry. Not sheep, other cowboys. Sorry! I know there's more to cowboys than sheep jokes and Annie Proulx, seriously I do.
So here starts the big adventure of education, prairie life, and wondrous strange snow.
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