27 and ready for something new. Or maybe I had been ready for something new for quite some time.

COVID was ending, and so was a relationship I had known I needed to leave long before I actually did (but that’s a story for another day). A few months of crying, funerals, and heartbreak later, the idea I’d tossed around for years—moving west—suddenly felt like the only thing that made sense. Work was remote, my lease was up, and nothing was holding me to New York anymore.

So, I sold everything, packed up what fit in my car, and drove. No long goodbyes, no time to let anyone convince me otherwise. Just me and my plan of no plan, heading toward the mountains. And a few people who were very unhappy with that plan. But, as always, I march to my own drum.

That was almost four years ago.

So much has changed since then. So much good. So many memories. So much growing. The plan of no plan unraveled into the most incredible journey, and looking back now, I can’t help but smile at everything Colorado has given me.

The highlights? Where do I even begin?

My beautiful niece, Penelope, was born. What a star. I met friends who became family—there’s something different about friendships formed in places where everyone has melted into. I met the love of my life and built a beautiful life with him. Got a dog, which I never thought I’d do. Endless ski trips, hikes, and camping weekends I’ll never forget. A new job that stretched me in ways I never expected. And all the wonderful things in between.

The beginning, where to begin? A month of couch surfing at my brother’s until I found my own little place in Cap Hill. Some second-hand furniture, a tiny Christmas bush, stacks of games and books, and a home filled with things I’d never had before. It was quiet in the beginning—nights alone, learning to sit at a bar with a book and a glass of wine, realizing that solitude doesn’t make you weak, it makes you stronger. Walks through Cheesman Park, poker nights at the Corgi pub, stumbling home from dive bars whose names I can’t remember. Late nights with new friends, rekindled friendships, first kisses, dinner parties, and mornings where the world felt wide open. Nervous first dates turned into whispered confessions and late-night rendezvous. Telling the man I love that I loved him—knowing even then, he was the one I’d say it to for the last time.

My family may have left, but I was building a new one. Andrew and I, and later, our pup Tater, in a house we rented in the suburbs with a yard and more room than we could fill. A real Christmas tree this time, filling the room. Holidays spent in our first home, fires where secrets were shared, dinner parties with full tables and fuller bellies. And so many discussions of lifelong plans and ponderings that make me excited for what’s to come next.

Going from the extroverted life I couldn’t get out of—yearning for endless plans, parties, and people—to growing into someone who still enjoys those things but cherishes quiet nights at home just as much.

And perhaps most surprisingly, I found love in solitude, in becoming a homebody when all I had ever known was the extrovert in me, always wanting to be anywhere but home. In those quiet nights, I found comfort in my own company, learning that home isn’t just a place—it’s a feeling.

There are moments that feel like snapshots in my mind—

Kissing in photo booths. Hours spent talking, and more so than ever, listening on those first few dates with Andrew. Our first ski trip, our first camping trip, the first time we took the truck off-roading. Lookout spots in Boulder, critiquing every restaurant we went to, laughing until we couldn’t breathe, getting lost on scenic drives with no destination in mind.

I found friendships I didn’t know I was missing—women I can’t believe I haven’t known forever, but whom I plan on keeping in my life for the rest of it. Girls’ trips and martinis, laughing all night on the couch, celebrating our wins, mourning our losses, and knowing we have each other through it all.

Colorado is a love story of mine. Not just because I found my person here, but because of all the beautiful things it taught me to love. New people, new adventures, new everything. I grew here. And I’m so grateful for everything it has given me.

The adventure here might be coming to an end soon, but Colorado—Colorado will always have my heart.