Undeniable beauty is what drew me to this locale, but what has kept and continues to keep me in this place are the hilarious, adventurous, loving people residing here. As I age, I have begun to fantasize about what the Valley would be like without visitors or, more pejoratively, interlopers, such that we had a closed circuit of super cool souls.
It is an unrealistic and unkind series of thoughts, not least of all because long before I was a citizen, I was a clueless tourist lured by the magic and mystery. Regardless, suffering a frustrating interchange, a rude interaction, I am buoyed by the blessings of our quirky but largely benevolent local populace.
In my daily life, at the Village Market, in Gravity Haus, on the slopes, at Two Arrows, at Craftsman, in my other regular haunts, there is great joy at seeing familiar faces, catching up on life, cracking jokes with those that also frequently frequent these spots. These small moments combine to create a richly-layered anthology that provides irreplaceable comfort, a grounding sense in today’s tornado, the true meaning of home.
Amongst this cast of characters, there are the main players, those tightest of friends and family members whose presence I affirmatively and repeatedly seek out, my Sunday dinner crew, my powder posse, my biking buddies, my inner circle. Of course, these folks are incredibly close to my heart and I cannot imagine my life here, or anywhere, without them.
Then there are those amazing people who make repeat cameos, surprise appearances that spark unexpected but lasting joy. There is a cohort of locals who appear serendipitously to me in spots both foreseen and completely random, to the point that it seems ordained by some higher, spookier, mischievous power.
Sean is the apex of these cameos, a onetime friend-of-a-friend who has become a friend because he is everywhere that I am, or at least in the really fun places that I tend to find myself. These encounters have become so frequent that I am no longer surprised, but still elated, that the throughline connecting us has not been broken.
I have run into Sean on remote desert biking trails, on the floor at Dead & Company, on untold ski slopes, at restaurants, just walking down the street. In the midst of a banger day, I look up and there he is, a huge smile on his handsome face, ready with a hug. It has become almost a ritual, but the secret to our connection is the lack of anticipation, replaced instead with a steady confidence that we will find ourselves together.
There are others whose appearances are similarly mystifying and fortifying. I tend to see the Seeligs in all of the dope spots, at après, at Hygge Life, a happy trio of incredible energy and kindheartedness. I run into the quietly brilliant Bombard quartet and I am inspired, I happen upon Russell and his amazing wife and sendy sons and feel stoke, I stumble into the Truebloods and feast on mentorship in matters active and parental.
Life being the summation of experiences both colossal and miniscule, I cannot overstate the value of these seemingly tiny moments of chance and fate. They have outsize importance in my existence, a reminder of the bonds that link our shared humanity. I cannot wait to see who shows up next.