Every Tuesday morning, I walk to the Denver Public Library and sit on the same bench before it opens. I don’t always go inside. Sometimes I just watch people.
A father reading to his daughter. A teenager rushing to catch the bus. Someone carrying flowers.
This city isn’t just buildings. It’s thousands of ordinary moments happening all at once. Denver has taught me that belonging doesn’t always come from knowing everyone. Sometimes it comes from recognizing familiar faces or places that provide rest.