There are a lot of things I’ll miss about Boulder. About 400 of them are the people that I love. It might seem quite impossible to love around 400 people, but I’ve always had a problem with reigning in my affection. I exhaust myself in the act of steeping my time with all of these people whose lives mingle with mine, enrich mine, construct mine, or bump lightly into it. If you read my creative blog, you’ll notice that I tend to consume myself with these relationships to people; good people, bad people, mediocre people, boring people, crazy people, loving people. It took a long time to love all of these people, and I still don’t know some of their names. I reflect that perhaps this is why it is time to go forth into the world, because mine is growing small and I’ve already made the impacts, the impressions, the shifts and differences necessary in this space. I wonder who I am to you reading this. A friend? A barista? A child? An acquaintance? A fellow poet? A lover of life? A comrade in the daily grind? I hope. The question, in this rather banal existence that I have developed over the course of the last few years of life, is what could I be to the greater world if I simply set myself off into it? Could I be a teacher? Could I be a revolutionary? Could I be a catalyst? I went to school to write a revolution and got caught up in the details of grammar and concept. I studied the social effects of literature begging with every cubic millimeter of breath to be the catalyst of change, but soon became too consumed within my own dystopia to have the clarity to look further on into the world. You could say I lost my mojo. What I’ve come to realize during this journey of self discovery and social construction, however, is that potential never dies, it simply waits. Contributing to this beautiful life in Boulder, Colorado was exactly what I needed to bolster the cavalry. I needed the warmth of friendship and the wrench of heartbreak. I needed the family that opened their arms so wide at OZO. I needed the community that chose my line at the espresso bar because they like my coffee and they like my smile and they like when I can’t help but sing to the music. I needed their smiles. Boulder welcomed me even when I didn’t welcome it, and it defrosted my Minnesotan heart. Now I find myself busting with gratitude, and a gleam of the future in my eyes. You have motivated me to do more, be more, love more, expect more, reach for those things that seem to lie so far away. You make me want to explore my dreams. So now I sell books of poetry at open mics and play cello on the street in order to perpetuate this movement. I spread word of my leaving and get the most loving responses. I sing for you (the communal you), and thank you for supporting my long lost aspirations. I needed that.