Enchanted Castle

It was a lot like Chuck E. Cheese, the pizza and game place that's set up like a mini-Disney of entertainment. Tickets are earned and prizes collected. They're popular for birthday parties and company events focused on pleasing an audience of children.

Suburban Chicago was home to Enchanted Castle. There may be dozens of them these days, or it might be out of business entirely. I have no idea. But to me, out in what I think was Lombard, was a magical place where there were few rules, an unending supply of games and more flashing lights than at Christmas. It was a special place. Once or twice a year - maybe three times, if I was lucky - there was a birthday party to which I was invited that allowed me entrance to an elementary child's dream. Part of its specialness came from the fact that it wasn't a place we went every day or every weekend. It was a big deal.

Until I was about 10-years-old.

I remember walking down the hallway past the eating area into the game room and it seemed a little disappointing to me. It was probably the fifth or sixth birthday party I had recently attended, or something like that, and it was a little disappointing. The magic was gone. I knew where to find all of my favorite games and even figured out which ski ball machine was likely to pay off. The magic was one. It wasn't special anymore because it had become an normal part of my fifth-grade life.

Growing up, Colorado was a magical place. In Colorado, I got to ski. Each summer in middle school, we went to camp in Gunnison. And in high school, we even went backpacking. Family vacations throughout college brought us back to the mountains, and when I was looking at graduate programs, the state's allure won me over and I relocated to Denver. Upon completing my degree, I couldn't get myself to leave. Dream jobs were offered...but out of state. And so I stayed. For over four years total, I called this magical place my home.  I got used to climbing in Rocky Mountain National Park on the weekends and skiing almost weekly in Summit County. What used to be vacation became every day life. 

Now that I've been officially a resident of Texas for almost two years, coming back to visit is even more special. The hill country where I live is gorgeous, but it's nothing compared to the magnificent mountains that hug the western side of Denver. The hugeness and vastness of these rocky structures is overwhelming. The sunset is picturesque. 

I miss it. A lot. I miss driving to work with the reflection of the sun lighting up Long's Peak and the Flatirons. I miss the snow. I miss the skiing. I miss the people. But there's something about moving away and only coming back about four times a year that makes it even more magical, like Enchanted Castle each and every time I find myself lucky enough to visit.