This writer has always lived close to the ground. Five floors up is as high as any of my living spaces has been. I am Antaeus, whose strength comes from the earth. This morning on my walk, surrounded by nature’s smells and sounds, I asked myself a question I have asked dozens of times: How will I live in a highrise? How can I do this at all?

My friend Belinda does it. Happily. Many others do. The task of it would have been simpler had there been a view of the mountains here. There aren’t. I won’t wake to the sounds of birds and tree frogs. I will hear the sounds of cars in the street far below. I wonder how the cats will feel about it: What will they watch out the windows?

I content myself to know that the urban life is something I understand. I content myself with knowing that I could write in a broom closet. I content myself with Belinda’s offer of the condo in the mountains when I need it. I content myself with knowing that there will be art and music and dance here. I content myself with the prospect of walking and biking everywhere, and with the delightful B-cycle bike share system that Denver has to offer (more about that in a bit.) And Whole Foods stores. And restaurants.

And I content myself with the knowledge that it will not be forever. The river will be here when I come back (as often as possible)…Lord willin’ and the creeks don’t rise.