I love the places that were too hard to keep. Where there is only wind rattling corrugated tin and the scuttling of field mice, now. Where lives have moved on and left the place behind. Where there aren’t even memories to ask about. Colorado is dotted with them. People came here in search of something, and moved on, whether they found it or not. So many towns popped up during the rush times, and died just as fast. Some held on for a while before fading. Some are no more than vague references in books and no one is sure where they were anymore.
These are the places are where nature won. It was too cold in this place, nothing grew here. It was too lonesome, too far from others. The wind blew too hard. The snow piled too deep. Fire came and left nothing behind. The work too hard, and the money not worth it. They cut their losses, picked up, and went on. This whole state was made by people like that. Ones who couldn’t find what they wanted, what they needed, where they were. So they picked up, left things behind, and moved on in search of something. I know how that feels. That is what brought me here, made me move to this place. I left many things behind, and I haven’t gone back to see them since.