“You Live Where?”
- ekferraco
- 5 days ago
- 5 min read
Since moving to a quieter, more rural part of Colorado, I’ve noticed a recurring theme when people talk to me about where I live.
“How do you like living so far from everything?”
“Isn’t it kind of… remote?”
Or my personal favorite: “No thanks—I could never live there!”
The funny thing is, a lot of the people saying this live in places where it takes them 45 minutes to get across town—because of traffic, construction, or some mysterious detour involving 12 school zones. Meanwhile, if I drive for half an hour, I’m cruising past open meadows, forested hills, elk, and the kind of mountain views you see on postcards.
And when I get to “town”? It’s not a one-horse situation—we’ve got four full-sized grocery stores, a summer farmers market, restaurants (yes, plural), a movie theater, a UCHealth regional hospital, not just one, but three hardware stores (you never know), coffee shops out the wazoo, the coziest used bookstore, a rooftop German beer garten, and—most importantly—my local Sherwin-Williams. (If you know, you know.)
So no, I’m not “far from everything.” I’m just far from chaos.
🌄 “There’s Nothing Around You”
Someone once said to me, quite seriously: “There’s absolutely nothing around you.”
To which I replied, “We have 16 acres of green pasture. There’s a lake down the road. We’ve got bald eagles that visit, hummingbirds at the feeder, and more birds than I can name. Our sky is so clear at night that we can see the Milky Way.”
Fun fact: we live in a designated Dark Sky Community, which means the area intentionally limits light pollution to preserve the natural nighttime environment. So yes, the stars really are that bright. Yes, the sky really is that full. And yes, it’s as magical as it sounds.
We have trails, fresh air, quiet. If that’s ‘nothing,’ then I guess I’m into nothing.
Do I get some side-eye when I gush about how much I love it here? Oh, definitely. And do I care? Not even a little bit. I’ll be over here sipping my coffee, watching the sun come up over the mountains, while they wrestle for a parking spot at Trader Joe’s.
🚗 A Different Kind of Drive
People talk about distance like it’s a burden. But here’s the truth: I still go to Walmart. I still see friends. It just takes me 30 minutes instead of 20—and my 30 minutes are peaceful and full of beauty instead of brake lights and frustration.
If I’m going to spend time in the car, I’d rather be singing with the windows down, watching deer or llamas on the roadside, than stuck behind a guy angrily yelling at Siri. Just saying. (Unless I'm down to the wire for my dermatology appointment. Don't judge me, Kerrianne. Seriously, though, a blinking yellow arrow seems to be a mystery to some. )
🧘🏼♀️ I Don’t Need a Break from My Life
I love to travel, try new places, and visit friends. But the best part of leaving is always coming back. I don’t get that “ugh, back to reality” feeling when I return home. I come back to something I truly love.
When we got married, my husband and I promised to “rejoice in the adventure together”—not in the mundane, not in the ordinary, but in the extraordinary. And for us, that meant building a life that feels full of beauty, peace, and intention. A life we don’t want to escape from. A life where elk crossings and starlit skies count as the extraordinary—and where quiet mornings and long drives feel like the best kind of adventure.
I’m not trying to escape my daily life—this is the life we chose, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
🙃 You’re Not Being Asked to Live Here
Look, I get that my lifestyle isn’t for everyone. Some people need the energy of a city or the comforts of suburbia. That’s great. But when you wrinkle your nose and say “No thanks, I could never live there,” just remember—I didn’t ask you to.
It’s okay that we like different things. What’s not okay is pretending your way is the only way, or being offended when someone prefers a different pace, view, or climate.
If you love the buzz of a beach town or the charm of a downtown loft, I love that for you. Just don’t be shocked when I say I’m happiest under a sky full of stars with not a neon sign in sight.
🌈 Final Thought: Let’s Just Let Each Other Be Happy
In the end, it’s not about convincing anyone to move to the mountains or to flee the city. It’s about realizing that happiness doesn’t look the same for everyone. So the next time someone tells you where they live, maybe instead of “No thanks!” try “That sounds beautiful—what do you love about it?”
Because I promise you—whether it’s a high-rise condo or a cabin in the woods—there’s something good to be found wherever you let yourself feel at home.
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