Letting the Days Go By

Breckenridge, deep in the wallet of the Rockies. 

We arrived late last night, after some time spent in the hot springs at Glenwood. I didn't go in the pool, didn't feel like it. The hot springs pool was impressive, no doubt about it. There were two of them, one hot and one very hot, arranged next to each another so that they stretched quite a distance, as if they were one long pool. 

Everywhere, there were people lounging about, presumably improving their health in the mineral rich waters. If I could have switched my eyes to black and white sepia-vision then I would have believed myself transported somewhere to the century before last, only the occasional bikini would have given away my proximity to the current age. 

Going on vacation with your wife, from whom you are separated, and your young child is an odd experience. It has brought me no shortage of unsettled feelings. Questions without answers, or worse. The what ifs and whys re-occur. You've already answered the revisions for yourself, and considered the many alternatives, but then there is this fluctuating sense, the tingle of lost love.

Invariably, something will happen, something will be said, and you'll snap out of it. All the reasons that things don't and won't work will galvanize around one facial expression, the tone of one clipped sentence, the sense that there isn't even a need to look at one another for confirmation any longer.

And you may ask yourself, Well, how did I get here?

The sun is rising over the snowy mountains in pinks and the blues of the sky. I would take a picture of it and post it here but I am too lazy.

Okay, I tried. Through the hotel blinds, it did not convey the essence of the morning. It rarely does, maybe never.

The boy has a cough, which might prevent us from continuing on to Longmont, CO as we had planned, not wanting to bring sickness to our friends. It's just a cough, we will have to wait it out and see. 

We may be stuck here, surrounded by natural beauty, attending to our boy together. Who knows, maybe we will fall in love again, though I tend to doubt it. Love requires a willingness towards one another that we no longer possess. A quality that we once shared as the earth's natural aquifers, where two hot springs meet. 

We also might be stuck here in the hotel merely enduring one another, for the sake of the little boy.  

We have plenty of practice at that, too.

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