One’s sense of home is a funny thing. I’ve written about it a lot on the blog in the past year, whether it was trying to figure out where to live or buying a new house. Though the front of my house still looks like a construction zone, I’m not struggling with “home” as much these days.
Partially I wonder if my assimilation into Texan is complete, although I’m sure my native Texan friends would disagree with me. The droning rain like we’ve had all week puts me into the world’s foulest mood, where it used not to bother me all that much. When driving out of the city, the flat fields of grass and giant sky are comforting to me now rather than crushing. I feel confined if I’m somewhere that hides most of the horizon with pesky hills and tall trees.
Life without breakfast tacos and kolaches simply might not be a life worth living. Let’s not even talk about queso on the east coast… it might as well not exist. I love the mish mash of social circles that makes up Austin. I’ve even grown to love the hipsters a little bit – just don’t tell anyone else. It makes my heart happy that I can find two stepping and cowboy hats if I need to and that the average man from a Texas small town has at least dabbled in rodeo.
When I hear of someone being “a little too east coast” my nose crinkles up a bit. What I used to think of a higher title is now a passive insult, although let’s be clear – I’m never giving up my pearls or my southeast “Bless your heart!” heritage.
Yesterday one of my best friends moved to Austin. Me, the risk aversion one in a search for stability, is single and attempting to write a book. Her, the person I legitimately think has a pretty fair shot of becoming a CIA agent or a much-funnier-than-me-famous-author, is married with an adorable kid who I get to be Auntie Lauren to now. We haven’t lived in the same town since I was 18, and I never could have imagined that she’d be living 10 minutes down the street from me 1,400 miles from home in North Carolina.
Except North Carolina isn’t really home to me anymore, Texas is. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be allowed to wear the Texan title fully, but I sure do love it here. If you asked 18 year old me where I’d be 13 years later, I could never have guessed this. Even if I went back and retraced all my steps, I’m not sure how I got to this place with these people in my life but I’m glad I did.
My life is a bit whacky and wild and unpredictable. I’m winging it on a daily basis… shooting from the hip like they do in the wild west. Like they do in Texas.