The Quiet Adventure: Finding Home in Cotopaxi
Edited fiction from A.I. and agent Dena Stevens
A New Beginning in Cotopaxi
Margaret and Henry Green had spent most of their lives in the bustling suburbs of Denver, where the streets never seemed to sleep, and the skyline was always glittering. For over 40 years, they had worked, raised their two children, and built a life together. But when retirement rolled around, they found themselves yearning for something quieter—a slower pace, a fresh chapter where they could reconnect with each other and nature. That’s when Cotopaxi, Colorado, entered their lives.
Cotopaxi wasn’t a place they had ever considered before. Margaret had stumbled upon it by chance while searching online for small, scenic Colorado towns. The pictures had captivated her—the Arkansas River winding through lush valleys, the towering peaks of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, and a sense of timelessness that reminded her of the days she and Henry would hike together as young newlyweds. She’d shown the photos to Henry, and, to her surprise, he’d agreed almost immediately.
“I could use a bit of quiet,” he had said, leaning back in his recliner. “Besides, we’ve done the big city thing. Why not try something different?”
Within three months, they had sold their home, packed up their belongings, and bought a cozy home just outside Cotopaxi. The house wasn’t large, but it was perfect—3 bedrooms, a wood-burning fireplace, and a porch with views that made Margaret’s heart skip a beat. The Realtor had called it a “rustic dream,” and Henry, with his ever-pragmatic mindset, had called it “manageable.” Either way, it felt like home the moment they stepped inside.
Their first week in Cotopaxi was a mix of awe and adjustment. Margaret found herself waking early, drawn to the porch where the sunrise painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. She’d sit with her coffee, listening to the gentle rustle of the wind through the pines and the occasional chirp of birds. Henry, on the other hand, was more interested in exploring the surroundings
“Let’s see what this place has to offer,” he said one morning, pulling on his sturdy hiking boots. “You coming?”
The town center of Cotopaxi was small—just a handful of buildings along Highway 50. There was a general store, a post office, a tiny café, and a rafting outfitter that seemed to be the town’s main attraction. The locals greeted them with warm smiles and curious questions.
“You folks new here?” asked Carol, the owner of the general store, as she rang up their groceries.
“Just moved in last week,” Margaret said, beaming. “We’re in the house off Copper Gutch and L Path”
“Ah, I know the place. Beautiful spot,” Carol replied. “Well, welcome to Cotopaxi. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to holler. We’re a small community, but we take care of our own.”
As the days turned into weeks, Margaret and Henry began to settle into their new lives. Henry, ever the handyman, took on small projects around the house. He built a garden box in the backyard and repaired the creaky porch swing. Margaret, meanwhile, rediscovered her love for painting. She set up a small studio in the spare bedroom, capturing the landscapes that surrounded her—the mountains, the river, and the golden fields that stretched into the horizon.
One crisp autumn morning, as Margaret worked on a watercolor of the sunrise, she heard Henry’s voice calling from outside.
“Margaret! Come here!”
She hurried to the porch, where Henry stood with a wide grin. He pointed toward the tree line, where a small herd of deer grazed peacefully.
“Look at that,” he said. “It’s like a postcard out here.”
Margaret smiled, slipping her hand into his. “It really is.”
Despite their growing love for Cotopaxi, adjusting to small-town life wasn’t without its challenges. Margaret missed the convenience of having everything within a few minutes’ drive.
Margaret laughed. “Looks like we’ll have to make our own entertainment.”
They started spending their evenings playing board games, reading by the fire, or simply sitting on the porch, watching the stars. Margaret couldn’t remember the last time she had seen so many stars—the sky in Cotopaxi was an endless tapestry of light, unspoiled by city glare.
One evening, as they sat on the porch sipping hot cocoa, Margaret turned to Henry. “Do you regret it? Moving here?”
He shook his head. “Not one bit. You?”
“Not at all,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I think we needed this.”
As winter approached, the Greens began to feel more connected to the community. They volunteered at a local food drive hosted by the local church, where they met more of their neighbors. There was Frank, a retired schoolteacher who shared Henry’s love for fishing, and Doris, a spirited widow who invited Margaret to join the area quilting club.
Margaret hesitated at first. “I’ve never quilted a day in my life,” she told Doris.
“Doesn’t matter,” Doris replied with a wink. “We’ll teach you.”
The quilting club became one of Margaret’s favorite activities. The women would gather every Thursday afternoon, stitching and chatting over cups of tea. Margaret found herself sharing stories about her grandchildren, laughing at Doris’s quick wit, and learning the art of quilting from women who had been doing it for decades.
Henry, meanwhile, had found his own rhythm. He spent his mornings fishing along the Arkansas River, often accompanied by Frank. The two men would swap stories and jokes, their laughter echoing across the water. In the afternoons, Henry would return home with fresh fish, which he and Margaret would cook together for dinner.
As the months passed, the Greens began to feel like true residents of Cotopaxi. They attended the town’s small but lively Fourth of July celebration at Lake DeWeese. They cheered on the local kids at the annual rafting race and joined in the holiday potluck, where Margaret’s homemade apple pie became an instant hit.
But it wasn’t just the events that made them feel at home—it was the people. Cotopaxi’s residents had a way of making everyone feel like family. When a late spring snowstorm knocked out power to their place, Frank showed up with a generator. When Margaret fell ill with the flu, Doris brought over a pot of chicken soup. And when Henry mentioned his dream of cleaning up a shed for his tools, a group of neighbors showed up one Saturday with tools in hand.
By the time their first year in Cotopaxi came to an end, Margaret and Henry couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. They had traded the noise and chaos of city life for a place where the days were slower, the air was fresher, and the connections felt deeper.
One evening, as they sat on their porch watching the sunset, Henry turned to Margaret. “You know, I wasn’t sure about this place at first. But now… I think we made the right choice.”
Margaret smiled, her hand resting on his. “I think so too.”
As the sky turned from gold to indigo, the stars began to appear, one by one. The Greens sat in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the night—a distant owl, the whisper of the wind through the trees, and the steady rhythm of the river below. For the first time in a long time, they felt truly at peace.
Cotopaxi wasn’t just a place they lived—it was home.
Here are five facts about Cotopaxi, Colorado (ZIP code 81223):
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Location and Geography: Cotopaxi is an unincorporated town and census-designated place in Fremont County, Colorado. It lies along the Arkansas River and is situated on U.S. Highway 50 between Salida and Cañon City.
Population: As of the 2020 United States Census, the population of the Cotopaxi CDP was 44. (In town)
Name Origin: The town was named after Cotopaxi Volcano in Ecuador, one of the world's highest active volcanoes. Henry Thomas, an early prospector in the mid-19th century, chose the name.
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Historical Significance: In 1882, Cotopaxi was the site of a failed colony of approximately 63 Russian-Jewish immigrants. They attempted to establish a farming community under the Homestead Act but faced numerous challenges, leading to the colony's dissolution.
Recreational Activities: Today, Cotopaxi is known for world-class whitewater rafting on the Arkansas River. Local outfitters offer rafting tours ranging from a few hours to multi-day trips, catering to various skill levels
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