Mimi McCormick

Message from a Fawn at Dawn

Moving from Manhattan to the no-cell-service, summit of a foothill north of Boulder, Colorado was quite a jump. It was a transition from sprinting home at night to make sure no dangerous human was following me, to hurrying up the dog walks in case a mountain lion was watching me. It was sirens and street chatter to deep gusts of mountain winds or the soft falling of snow. It was waking up every morning and looking out the window to my right, to see the same old coffee shop with the same, expansive lines winding around the street corner, versus waking up in the morning, looking to my right, and seeing, well, this - the unexpected.