Josey's Life

Across the street from me there is a little white house with a green door and shady front porch. It's set back from the street, smaller than the two gardened mini-mansions next to it. If you weren't paying attention you might mistake it for a large shrub. In fact, it belongs to a fabulous old woman named Josey. Josey is my friend.

One morning I saw Josey out her in yard hobbling around as she watered her plants. I immediately wanted to meet her. Later that evening I was running out of the house when I saw Josey and John, her next-door-neighbor, sitting on her stairs playing with the dogs. They waved me over and a half hour later I was totally in love.

Josey has lived in that little white house almost her entire life. When I introduced myself she told me that she would always remember me because she used to have a friend named Emily who lived a few houses down. One summer they got caught stealing peaches from the house on the corner. They ate the peaches anyway, and she said they tasted horrible. She never stole another peach.

Josey graduated from East High School in 1938, back in the day when it was still all white kids. She worked in the financial office of the Montgomery Ward that used to be on 6th and Broadway. After 30 more years working in accounting for the Air Force, she finally retired.

I'm unsure of when she left and returned to that house but am positive that she is grateful to be there. She told me about a time when she needed surgery and had to live in a nursing home while recovering. With disgust she walked me through the days there: they woke up and waited around for breakfast, and then were walked to a group where they were given something to do, then waited for lunch, then the next group, so on and so forth. They could only choose certain foods and had to wake up early and go to bed early. No one really knew each other. Most people didn't want to be there.

I said, "I know exactly what you mean." Although I refrained from telling her how.

After sitting with Josey and the neighbors on another night, I'm having a hard time getting her out of my mind. I find it so fascinating that she's lived in that same house almost her entire life. She's watched Colfax change, witnessed wars' affect on the area, and seen kids like me move in and out. She still wore her rad 1970's bell bottoms that she sewed herself. I respect Josey immensely and think it fantastic that she's kept that little house. I honor her pride in maintaining it.

But when I really got to thinking I realized something strange: even though I find her life so dignified I would absolutely never choose it. Why is it that I can be so inspired by Josey's life choices as I chastise myself for still being in Denver, still being dependent on my parents, not living in some foreign country and making a million dollars? Living as Josey does incites me to invent choking analogies. And yet being Josey is wholly awesome.

I got to thinking about how it would be if I chose to stay in Denver. Really, would it be that bad? What would it say about me as a person if I never lived in a foreign country or learned to speak three more languages?

I don't think it would say anything about me as a person. What it would say is everything about the multitude of paths life can take. I crave to go abroad because I am curious and adventure-full and always will be. However, while I was in treatment I explored the alley behind the hospital like it was central China and the expanse of my own mind like it was deep in an Andean jungle. Exploration happens anywhere and everywhere; there is nothing about travel that makes one more willing to explore. True, when you travel you will probably be slapped in the face by things you don't quite understand and that can induce the sort of learning that exploration provides. Travel is only as much as you make it, just like your own front yard.

It's incredibly relieving to realize that I have another option. I can live here forever and I will still be me. I can explore whatever feels right. Still, I'm gettin' the heck outta' here. I know that I've got a lot of life outside of the four corners of this state and sandy beaches of this country. I'm healthy, I'm worthy, and I'm excited. The difference now is that I don't feel like my success is measured upon my travel and what I do there. I've activated the mechanism in myself that allows for honest choice. With choice and options failure is impossible. I'm thrilled to undertake the journey.

I love that Josey and her little abode are right outside my window. I think I'll pick Josey some fresh flowers from the house on the corner. I hope I [don't] get caught.