Aspen

The next summer after I'd lost over twenty pounds and was in fantastic shape, I took a trip to Denver to visit Erica. I had rented a Volkswagen Beetle and we headed to the mountains to visit Jack at his family's Aspen home. THAT was when I discovered that I had an extreme case of acrophobia. Luckily we had an experienced mountain driver with us because once we got up near the tree line, and drove through dense fog where the road ahead was NOT VISIBLE, I began to sweat and shake and hyperventilate. Finally I could no longer handle the clutch and gas pedals for all the shaking, and rivulets of sweat were streaming down my sides. Our spare driver navigated us safely to beautiful, beautiful Aspen. Had he not been with us, there might have been a cross erected at the place where we plunged down the mountainside. At 11,000 feet, Aspen is in a valley. In July the mountain tops were covered with snow, and the sky was so filled with stars, you could barely see the black sky behind them.

That was all breathtaking. Jack met us in the yard of his family's home – a paradise of flowers, birds, and butterflies. There were hummingbirds everywhere, the likes of which I had never seen. I don't remember his words, but Jack's response to my new shape was instant and I was ecstatic – quietly, of course. I think Jack was living in a cave somewhere in the mountain with a current girlfriend. Erica, the driver, and I slept in sleeping bags in tents at a nearby campground. The night skies were miraculous. What a brilliant day it had been.