I think of home. 

I think of the cold wind across my face and the vibrant Red Rocks and snowy blankets covering the mountains. 

I think of the cold creeping down my spine and making my nose run. 

I think of the smell of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies and the laughs and screams of hundreds of people. 

I think of home. 

Colorado (the Centennial State) is covered in the Rocky Mountains and is best known for its numerous plateaus and mountain ranges and plains. It’s best known for its bison, bighorn sheep, black bears, eagles, elk, mountain lions, beavers, and horses. It’s best known for its variety of activities, consisting of skiing, hiking, canoeing, horseback riding, and mountain biking. Beautiful in the summer and winter, people enjoy the fun-packed state year-round. In the winter, temperatures drop as the snow covers the mountains and icicles hang from houses. Tall and lanky and brown aspen trees lose their leaves and stare at me with their piercing brown eyes. In the summer, the snow melts into the rivers, and the birds soar across the sky. The crested wheatgrass catches my eye, and the wildflowers bring a smile to my face as I hike past. It’s a state I’d love to live in when I’m older. 

We would stay with my Yia Yia, or grandma in Greek, and her partner in Littleton, a small town just a couple miles south of Denver. I have very distinct memories of the town, such as the large wooden bear that stood outside the local breakfast diner and the glass dolls with rosy cheeks and curly hair that we would purchase from the antique toy store. The tall Christmas trees surrounded her house, and the smell of cigarettes burned in my nose as she sat on her porch looking out, her mind in a peaceful state. 

 The second I was old enough to walk, my dad clicked the plastic bands of my boots and helped me pop into my miniature skis. I wore a red and black puffy one-piece ski suit and a white helmet, passed down from my sister to me. The white helmet protected me from any harm and danger I would come across. Holding my arms, my dad pushed me forward in my Yia Yia’s backyard. As my crooked knees shook, I somehow managed to scooch forward and move a whole two feet. He looked at me with a grin and said, “you’re skiing, Car!”

We cooked in Yia Yia’s kitchen as she played the guitar and sang Greek music to us. Her loving hands grasped the wooden spoon, and she twirled it around in the pot. The waft of oregano filled the air while lullabies hummed in my ear. She would call me her koúkla–little doll in Greek–as she grabbed my dainty hands and spun me round and round, “gýro gýro”, she would say. Dancing with her felt like being stuck in the tightest hug, reassured that she would never let go.

In my opinion, excluding high altitudes, Colorado has no flaws and is the ideal state to visit. USA Today published an article ranking “the 50 happiest cities in the United States, according to residents.” The article mentioned three cities in Colorado: number forty-one Fort Collins, number eighteen Denver-Aurora-Lakewood, number ten Boulder. The article stated, “​​The West and Rocky Mountains regions, specifically California and Colorado, appear to be the states with the most cities where residents feel happy.” Through my many trips to the marvelous state, I’ve never met an unhappy person, so I’d say this statement is true. 

A few years later, my dad took me to the big slopes. He told me today was a Pow Pow day, meaning there was a lot of snow covering the mountain. Holding my hand, he led me to the chair. The instructor grabbed the back of my ski suit, pulling the nylon and holding me up; he placed me on what felt like the scariest roller coaster at Disney World. I sat on this moving chair, observing the different shades of green and brown and millions of skiers flooding down below me. When we got to the top, he took me on the bunny hill and told me to proceed, directing me to point my skis like french fries to go and pizza to stop. Of course, I french fried my little ass down the whole bunny hill. I felt like I was flying, like I was an Olympian crossing the finish line to get my gold medal. As a result of my remarkable ability to learn to ski so quickly, I soon graduated dad lessons and went to ski school. My Yia Yia would drop me off every day, and every day I’d cry from missing her so much. I ended up quitting after the first week. I can still taste the salty tears flooding down my cheeks.

I grew up visiting him a couple of times over my life. Sometimes he’d come to visit us, and he’d usually bring some kind of activity for us to do, like art or an instrument to learn. When we’d all gather together and participate in the project, it felt like nothing else mattered but the laughter surrounding the room. His wrinkled hands and his wispy white hair and his whistling voice around the room. His grandfather-like presence brought warmth and comfort and a sense of familiarity, the familiarity of my Yia Yia. He always had so many stories to tell from his long-lived life, so many that sometimes I struggle to keep track. 

I love the ski lifts; I love looking down on the little world below me and sitting still, frozen in time, for the 3-minute ride up. I can’t even try to go on my phone as my hands get too cold, so I’m stuck with only my eyes to entertain me. I love making friends with the random tourists on the ski lift and meeting people from all different countries. I love brushing my poles across the snow as I push my weight downwards, the start of my big adventure. Turning as little as possible and still, just as I did as a little girl, flying down the mountain. Weaving in and out of the trees, tapping them as I pass, the powder gently floating down on my head. I love the crackle of the snow as I make a hockey stop, spraying as much snow as possible at my sister. 

His basement didn’t have the usual flat screen T.V. or comfy couch or a shelf full of games and movies. Instead, it had fluorescent lights and creaking doors that made the hairs rise off my arms. It smelled like stagnant air mixed with old-fashioned cigars. Once approaching the end of the stairs, he showed me the most elaborate train set. Every delicate piece was hand-crafted, hand-painted, and designed by him and only him. “I spent hours mixing the paint to the perfect tone and painting every individual highlight and shadow,” he told us. 

Saying that skiing makes me happy is a cliche statement, but it’s true. Research even backs me up: “skiers had a nearly 60% lower risk of getting diagnosed with anxiety disorders compared to non-skiers, according to a study published in the journal Frontiers in Psychiatry.” When I ski, all I have to worry about is keeping my toes facing forward. My mind goes blank, and I feel taken away into the moment, like I’m on an adrenaline high. 

The train set took up the entire basement and even worked: the red and yellow train would make the “choo choo” noises with the little train conductor figurine sitting in the window. It would light up as it followed around the track in the room, passing miniature trees, ponds, houses, people and mountains–every detail filled the colorful room with life. It was almost as if you touched the model mountain, you would feel the cold snow on your fingertips, and if you walked by the trees, you would smell the fresh scent of pine. He painted every wall and crevice with clouds and planes in the sky and dirt on the mountains. He even had a photo hanging of my Yia Yia standing over train tracks and painted the frame, so it blended in with the rest of the design. Walking around the room felt like Narnia, like entering a winter wonderland where nothing mattered. Still, at the same time, every detail of life was not taken for granted and was instead respected and appreciated.

The never-ending worries of college, grades, family matters and mental health come to a halt. The refreshing breeze–a clean shower after a five-week camping trip–and the cold air–pins and needles piercing into my cheeks–all awake me to reality. Waking me up to live in the present and enjoy every moment. 

Bringing me back home.

Home to my safe haven.

Home to Colorado. 

Works Cited

Byrnes, Hristina. "These are the 50 happiest cities in the United States, according to residents." USA Today, Gannett, 21 Sept. 2021, www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2021/09/21/50-happiest-cities-america-according-residents/5797222001/. Accessed 13 Dec. 2022.

"Colorado." Britannica School, Encyclopædia Britannica, 21 Feb. 2018. school.eb.com/levels/high/article/Colorado/111271. Accessed 6 Dec. 2022.

Hall, Bex. "'Kalimera' and 'Koukla Mou' - Greek Greetings You're Sure To Hear When You Visit." Life Beyond Borders, www.lifebeyondbordersblog.com/k-is-for-kalimera-and-koukla-mou/.

Hughes, Jessica. "Learn Some Fun Facts about Colorado." Uncover Colorado, Oct. 2022, www.uncovercolorado.com/fun-facts-about-colorado/. Accessed 13 Dec. 2022.

Krempholtz, Emily. "Colorado Wildlife and Where to Find Them." ColoradoInfo.Com, 2022 Colorado Activity Centers, www.coloradoinfo.com/blog/colorado-wildlife-and-where-find-them. Accessed 14 Dec. 2022.

Rogers, Kristen. Skiers Might Be at Lower Risk for Anxiety, Study Finds, CNN, 15 Sept. 2021, cnn.com/2021/09/15/health/skiing-benefits-anxiety-study-wellness/index.html#:~:text=Slaloms%20through%20snow%20are%20a,the%20journal%20Frontiers%20in%20Psychiatry.

Sridharan, Apuurva. "18 Things Colorado is Known and Famous For." Hey Explorer, edited by Joy Sallegue, 5 Sept. 2020, heyexplorer.com/what-is-colorado-known-for/. Accessed 14 Dec. 2022.

Westrum, Maris. "Do you know these 10 ski/snowboard terms?" FOX 31 Colorado's Very Own, Nexstar Media Group, 10 Nov. 2022, kdvr.com/news/local/do-you-know-these-10-ski-terms/. Accessed 13 Dec. 2022.