It was always been my intention that, eventually, I would make my move to Colorado legitimate; get a new driver’s license, new plates for my car and register to vote here. I think, having lived in California for so long, I’ve had mixed emotions about changing my residence “officially”. After 55 ½ of my 56 years, there was a lot of sentiment about what I was leaving behind me; my friends, my golden retriever, my ex-husband of 25 years, my job of 14 years. So many memories. So much history. So much baggage.
Although, since moving here to Littleton, it’s been quite easy to transition over to what is now, my new home. This isn’t really surprising to me. The reason for the ease of this changeover is the absolute pleasure of associating with the most pleasant, sincere, honest, hard-working, genuine people on the planet. I mean it. Nobody compares! The people in Henderson, NV came close, but I later realized that was only a temporary response. Once they found out you were a CA transplant, they treated you like an illegal immigrant. (Something about it was already over+crowded in the city and creating more traffic, smog and crime. Whatever!)
Here, it’s quite the opposite. When I first came here and someone asked me where I moved from, I automatically responded in a shy, almost ashamed manner, afraid of how they’d react to my “invasion” of their pristine surroundings. But on the contrary, whenever I’ve told this to someone here, their reaction has been warm, welcoming, and I get the impression that they are sincerely happy to rescue me from that place.
I began my own pursuit of happiness in December of 2006 when I visited my best friend here in the magnificent mountains of Silverthorne. With the help of an introduction to a friendly local couple, I took some time to explore downtown Denver. After that, there was no turning around. I knew immediately I wanted to be here. And somehow I also knew I was meant to be here. All I needed to do was wait for the right time. Those who know me know I am not a patient person. But thanks to my friends and my conversations with God, it wouldn’t be too long until my dreams became reality. I needed time, after all, to plan, to budget, and more importantly, to wait for the right opportunity to leave my job.
What I didn’t know, however, was that making it official would have such an effect on me. This all came about when my rear license plate came up missing. I was at the grocery store and when I opened the back to load up my groceries, I noticed it was gone. The plate, the frame, the bolts, everything! This forced me to make a report (What would happen if it was used on a car involved in a liquor store robbery??) They told me the best thing to do was get a Colorado plate. The right time.
I went down to the DMV and within an hour it was done. I was already been there a couple weeks earlier to get my driver’s license (also necessary in order to file for unemployment here in this state) so I knew the routine. I brought something to read and pulled my number-ticket, and waited patiently. (See? I AM becoming a patient person!)
What was interesting, and very much appreciated (why I LOVE this place!) was what the clerk did next. She asked me “When did you bring the car into the state? When did you become a resident with a job and a place to live?” I thought, ‘Well, those questions all have different answers.’ I arrived in Colorado on April 3rd. I rented my apartment on April 28th. I got a job on August 10th. I decided to go with the date I rented my apartment, April 28th. She figured out the fees and gave me a slip of paper that said, “$319.07.”
Thud!
Then she also handed me my black and white plates. I told her, “No, wait. I wanted the plates that supported Breast Cancer Research…the pretty pink ones!” Oh man! That was another $50! I think she saw the look on my face and felt sorry for me. She looked at me and said, “What was the date you said you got a job?” I told her the August date. She tore up my Residence form and filled out a new one with the August date. I signed, and BAM! The bill went down to $243.
AWESOME!
See what I mean? The people here are the best people on the planet! Do you think that would have happened in California? Nope. They would have probably charged me more for the taxes that “Ahhh-nold” has imposed for blowing my nose in the city park… and for the Kleenex I used instead of a handkerchief, because the Kleenex wasn’t “eco-friendly.” (No, not really. But close!)
All this makes me surprised….NOT, about why I wanted to move here in the first place. Sure, the scenery is as beautiful as any artist could ever imagine. And true, the air here is thinner, but MUCH cleaner than it is in California. And thank GOD, when I sleep at night I can actually hear the crickets and the wind blowing in the trees, not to mention I’m able to see more stars per square inch than I’ve ever seen. But doesn’t it make the experience so much more rich being able to walk down the street and allowing yourself to smile at that complete stranger without the fear of them thinking you were “weird?” And it makes me feel so much better (all those endorphins) just smiling!
It’s just GOT to be something in the water!