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Photo: Taelar Pollmann · The Sentry

Roaring 20s

have now been 20-years-old for 72 hours. The idea of it has started to ease up on me as the days progress, but has also brought upon a lot of reminiscing. This has been the first year that turning a certain age on my birthday has honestly bothered me, and it’s not in the sense of “Oh my God, I’m so old,” because 20 isn’t old and I know that; it’s more “Oh my God, I’ve been alive for two decades.”

Amidst my existential crisis over turning the big two zero this weekend, I got to see my parents for the first time since the beginning of August and spend a much needed weekend away up in Estes and Rocky Mountain National Park. We obviously did all of the tourist-y things one does while in Estes and RMNP like touring The Stanley Hotel and getting up close and personal with the elk (at a safe distance, of course, don’t be stupid).

This weekend was the longest I had been up in the mountains in quite a few years and I realized how much I missed it. Since moving to Denver at 17—going on three years ago now—I have distanced myself from the nature that I grew up being immersed in. Now I’m immersed in the smell of constant garbage, sewage, and marijuana versus the crisp fall mountain air that I was so used to and took for granted at home.

I wish I wouldn’t have taken the experiences of having actual fresh, clean air and being able to see all of flickering sparkles of the stars in the sky for granted. I love Denver, the lifestyle, and actually having something to do on the weekends; and the city lights make up for the lack of stars to some extent. But this weekend and my quarter life crisis made me realize how much I miss even having the option to go outside to see the stars or how fortunate I was to be able to grow up in a setting where the mountains are in my backyard. On that note, I want to spend my roaring 20s reconnecting with the nature I lost when I moved to Denver.

Editor’s Pick: “Roaring 20s” by Panic! At the Disco

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