Like the mythical bird, I rise from the ashes.

I've been aching for Colorado lately. Not so much this week, actually, but last Wednesday on the four hour car ride from home to school when all I had were CDs and my thoughts, the CDs turned my thoughts to the mountains. I got a little teary-eyed for the Rockies, my friends, the Y.

The bouts of heartache tend to wash over me every once in awhile and stay for a couple of days. And they pass as quickly as they come, but they still come. During those periods I kick around the idea of another summer at the Y, and when the mood lifts so do the thoughts. Because it just wouldn't be the same.

I think about the money that I need and the money I would be paid, and I reconsider. But the biggest problem is that I'm too nostalgic; I'd want things to be exactly the same as last summer.

That's impossible; most of the friends I met wouldn't return, the job would become too stressful, even the mountains would somehow change.

It would be too different and I wouldn't be able to handle it. And worst of all, I'm afraid it would affect the memories of my first summer in the mountains.

Thankfully, the heartache doesn't come or last too often.