Waking up to Highland Peak bathed in the deepest, most soothing pastel pinks and reds, I got out of bed and packed up my road bike. I was heading down to Basalt to get the air conditioning fixed in my Hyundai. My plan was to stay all day: coffee at Confluence, a road bike ride up the Frying Pan River with a good friend, a stop by the sweet little house on the corner that we rent out and then work at the Basalt Regional Library. With enormous windows facing the woods, the library is one of my favorite places to work. It had been a while since I’d hung out in Basalt, the town we moved away from to keep the boys in the Aspen School District.
Right from the get-go, my journey had to shift. Basalt’s only coffee shop had closed, so I sat on a park bench in the sun on Midland Avenue, took out my laptop and started writing while watching the slow bustle of morning Basalt life.
Wandering Midland Avenue
Getting hungry, I went to Heather’s Savory Pies and Tapas Bar, a place where I could write and eat a quick, healthy lunch. It was the warm red building and the cherry blossom tree bending over the sign that lured me in. Sitting at a round table as sunrays splashed around my big orange umbrella, I ordered an herbal iced tea and a kale salad with dried cherries, cucumbers, red cabbage, carrots and balsamic dressing. (I’ll eat or drink anything with balsamic vinegar or maple syrup in it.)
After lunch, I continued my lazy but curious wander along Midland Avenue while I waited for my friend. I stumbled upon Skip’s Farm to Market’s new store on the corner, kitty-corner to Xin Yu Massage (I hear they give an excellent foot rub), and grabbed a “Fatty” all-natural beef jerky stick and a peanut butter Jen’s Bar. Skip’s is stocked with grab-and-go wraps, salads and local snacks, perfect if you’re heading out fishing or for a stroll by the river. I chatted with the petite woman at the register, who had wonderfully alive brown curls, a huge smile and electric blue eyes. She told me how much she loves that you can still find a parking space in town, then leaned in and whispered that we should get the bumper sticker that says “Keep Basalt Sh*tty.”
Up the Frying Pan
Finally, we headed up the Frying Pan, scouting for mountain goats and angling-obsessed fly fishermen and women wading and casting peacefully in sun-sparkled Gold Medal waters. That might sound ambitious for our first road ride of the season, but we barely noticed time passing as we soaked in the warm spring sun, riding past spring-green farmland with new babies nursing from their mamas.
A Serendipitous Hallelujah
After falling into one of my favorite shoe stores, Midland Shoe, and buying a pair of boots on sale with money I would now have to raise, I heard piano notes spilling out of The Art of Hair, a funky art gallery and hair salon. Of course I had to walk in and sit on a white bench while the man kept playing. When he finished, he looked up and said hello. His name was Marcus Chatman, an incredibly talented musician who had just moved to the valley with his family and who grew up singing in a musical family. When he began to play again, he chose “Hallelujah,” and his gorgeous, melodic voice broke into song while I broke into quiet tears. Marcus had randomly chosen the very song Rabbi Itzhak had asked me to rewrite for our oldest son’s bar mitzvah program.
Driving home, I soaked it all in: the morning, the bike ride, the time with Marcus. I smiled big. My life was exactly where it was supposed to be. On that drive home, all was good and humane and magical, and I hoped the feeling would stay with me until the next time I took time to slow down and let serendipitous life happen. If you move too fast, you may miss it all.
