A magical man walked into the store earlier this evening. Wearing a Left Hand Brewery baseball cap, white beard and infectious smile we hit it off immediately.
He was after something sweet so I pointed him toward the Tortes, Cheesecakes and Mousse Bombs. I warned him: the bomb will knock his socks off, especially if he's a chocolate lover. Like a kid in a candy store, he took one right over to a table and opened it up.
I made him a fresh cup of coffee, frittered about with a few market chores and then joined him for one of the best conversations I've had with a customer.
Either he was buzzing from the chocolate or I was searching for company but we both engaged one another with one liners about the meaning of life, following your passion, eating well, moving to where you belong and getting rid of any jackasses in your life. At least 40 years separated us.
Turns out he's from Brooklyn. Moved out to Denver in the late 60s to get away from the sardine subway cans and dense population. He needed more space - more physical space to think and to be. His inlaws tried coming out but couldn't take the openness of Colorado - they prefer being confined to small space surrounded by people, conveniently fitting in a nice defined and jammed box. Whatever floats your boat. But we both winked at each other, knowingly, that we both have it figured out as far as we're concerned.
Wide open space. Lots of places to think. Lots of places to learn. Lots of things to listen to and be in harmony with. Mountains. Ah, mountains.
Part of life is figuring out what you want by finding out what you don't want. He didn't want to be stuck in a subway crammed face to face with perfect strangers day after day, night after night. I didn't want to be stuck with grey sky the rest of my life. You mean you can just up and change your reality? You bet.
And when you do, when you allow yourself to choose a life that you want to live, you really start living.